


Mending the Broken Pieces

by LadyLaran



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, F/M, Female Bilbo, NSFW, Romantic Soulmates, bagginshield
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-09 15:03:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 49
Words: 120,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6912061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLaran/pseuds/LadyLaran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawthorn Baggins was not what Thorin Oakenshield had expected when Gandalf had suggested her for the position of the company's burglar.  A night in the hobbit's smial completely shatters the preconceived notions they might have had regarding the new addition to their group, which will make the journey to Erebor a rather interesting one!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Wizard's Invitation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bead/gifts), [Tisha_Wyman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tisha_Wyman/gifts).



> Author’s Note – I had thought to hold off on posting this, but I wanted something to balance out my writing schedule now that “A Hobbit’s Rescue” has been completed. This is another story that has been haunting me to the point I’m literally dreaming of this when I’m not writing. I hope everyone enjoys this.
> 
> Warnings – AU with gender-bent Bilbo
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this.

Gandalf said nothing for several long moments as he stood outside of the old gate that kept a small yard closed off from the quiet street. His blue eyes were watching the sole occupant of the bench, and the lass had not noticed him due to the fact that her complete attention was focused on her knitting. This was the last place he’d expected to find the only child of Bungo and Belladonna Baggins, and it broke his heart to see her so far from the smial that had been her home since birth.

His sharp gaze noted several things that did not sit well with him. Instead of having the rounded cheeks he remembered her possessing as a fauntling, Hawthorn Baggins was too slender than was normal for a lass of her age. Her clothing, while sturdy, sensible, and well cared for, was also several years old and that added to something he was furious to realize.

Something pulled her attention away from her work, and the lass gave him a sweet half-smile as she greeted him.

“It has been a long time, Mithrandir. Please, come and sit down,” she said, setting her needles and yarn aside.

The Istar was glad to follow her instructions, finding a man sized bench in the shade not far from her own bench. Apparently, she still kept up her mother’s habit of ensuring the comfort of friends from beyond the borders of the Shire. That warmed his heart and despite his unhappiness regarding the girl’s circumstances, he gave her a bright smile.

“I apologize, my dear, but I found myself avoiding the Shire after your parents took their journey to Yavanna’s Gardens and before I knew it, several years had gone by. I should not have done so for I find I have missed my young friend a great deal.”

“I understand, Mithrandir. If the opportunity had arisen for me to do so, I would have left here as well and not come back,” the lass replied. “As it stands, I have no wish to place a burden upon the household of a dear friend as Lord Elrond is so I must remain here.”

“Has it been so bad since their passing,” he asked, seeing her blue eyes fill with tears for a long moment before she forced them away.

“Horrible,” she admitted, hands trembling. “Not even a day after the funeral, the Baggins family came to me and informed me that Papa’s Will would not be executed. Because of the aftermath of my accident, they told me I had no right to remain in a smial as grand and large as Bag End. Grandfather heard of it and found a smial for me here in Tuckborough. All I was allowed to bring were items bought after their wedding or what Mama brought into the marriage.”

“Tell me they didn’t turn you out penniless,” the wizard demanded, hiding his wrath when she nodded.

“I get by doing restorations of old books, translating some of them to modern Hobbitish or Westron, as well as giving my aunts whatever I am able to make with my needlework. They take them to the market to be sold,” she told him. “Though I suspect, now that Grandfather has joined Mama and Papa in Yavanna’s gardens, that I am not being paid full price for my handiwork.”

“My dearest Hawthorn, if I had known this would happen, I would have taken you with me and found a place for you to live where you could be happy,” Gandalf said quietly. “I take it the other problem your parents worried over has not resolved.”

A look of deep unhappiness and loneliness crossed the hobbit lass’s face, and it made the old wizard’s heart ache to see it there. He remember the girl as being full of song and laughter, always having a kind word for everyone that crossed her path. Well, almost everyone because she had her mother’s temper and knew how to wield that educated mind rather well when crossed.

“I am afraid you’re correct on that, old friend,” Hawthorn said quietly. “Everyone knows of my problems, and no one has been willing to overlook them to get to know me.”

The Istar rubbed a hand over his face, looking at the daughter of his dearest friend and mentally begging her to forgive him for not returning before now. Belladonna would have shaved his beard and broken his staff to punish him for allowing this to happen to her child.

“I’m sorry, Hawthorn. I truly am,” he said quietly. “I must ask you something, and I daresay you might find this to your liking.”

“What is it, Mithrandir?”

“I have a chance for you to get out of the Shire and help with a quest,” Gandalf began. “Do you remember the stories of Smaug?”

“I certainly do; it gave me nightmares as a fauntling,” Hawthorn replied, remembering the tales he had told her before bedtime when she’d been small. “What about him?”

“The dwarves of Erebor have settled in Ered Luin, but they do not thrive there. Their leader wishes to return his people to their home,” the wizard shared.

“Is it so bad in the Blue Mountains that he would be willing to risk going up against a fire drake,” she asked, eyes wide.

“It is not going well, I’m afraid. Their numbers are slow to climb; there’s not enough food to help keep the children and mothers healthy. Add to the fact that orc attacks are growing worse, they need the shelter of the Lonely Mountain to keep them safe and the wealth within to ensure everyone has enough food.”

“Oh Yavanna, had Grandfather known, he would have helped,” the lass said, sounding heartbroken. “Why did they not approach the Shire for aid?”

“King Thranduil of Mirkwood turned his back on them after Smaug came, offering no shelter or aid to those in need,” Gandalf answered. “Many died because of it, people who could have been saved had he opened his halls to shelter them and grant them supplies when the time came to leave to find a new home. The memories of dwarves are long, and they have learned not to trust outsiders.”

“I can’t say that I blame them,” the hobbit replied, knowing all too well what it felt like to be betrayed by others. “I just feel bad now knowing we have so much and could have helped. Maybe their leader would be interested in trading later, once he regains his old home. I take it you’re offering me a place within his group?”

The wizard shook his head, remembering just how well the girl was named. She always had hope for others, and he had a good feeling about it.

“I am,” he told her. “They plan to stop at the Shire to take their rest and pick up the burglar before heading out.”

“Firstly, Mithrandir, won’t I slow them down? My injury acts up at times, and I do not move as fast as a hobbit should. That could complicate matters considerably.”

“If I can convince the stubborn fool to make the side trip, Lord Elrond has a new tonic that should help with the pain when it flares,” he reassured her. 

“He mentioned it in his last letter,” Hawthorn replied. “But that still doesn’t mean I can keep up when the pain becomes too high. I couldn’t bear it if I caused someone to be harmed due to my slowness.”

“I’ll do what I can to aid you,” the wizard commented. “In my heart, I know that bringing you is the right thing to do. We can find a place to make a home for you once everything is done so you won’t have to return to the Shire if you don’t wish to.”

“What am I supposed to do for this dwarven company?”

“Reconnaissance, mostly,” Gandalf answered. “If Smaug is alive, your scent will be unknown to him so you’d be the best one to determine if he is or not. Your knowledge would be useful too since you have had a love of maps and books since you were a fauntling.

“Hawthorn,” he continued. “Not only will this provide you with a chance to find yourself a true sanctuary but it will give you an opportunity to make friends. You deserve a chance to be happy, my dear girl, and I want you to take it.”

Hawthorn was quiet for a moment, contemplating what he had shared.

“Uncle Isengrim might be willing to keep my belongings safe until I send word for them,” she murmured. 

“We can be certain of that by sending a letter to Rivendell to ask if Lord Elrond would be willing to dispatch someone to pack everything up and I can bring it to you once you find where you want to live,” the wizard offered. “He would be happy to help you, and it will not be a burden to him.”

“Do you think it’d be all right to ask him that?”

“My dear girl, he adores you and would do anything for you,” Gandalf stated. “Remember that. Now, are you willing to go?”

“I am,” the hobbit replied. 

“Good, why don’t you pack and write the list and letter to send to Rivendell? I shall go speak with your uncle about things. The company should be here tomorrow afternoon, my dear. May I leave a rune on your door to help guide them?”

“You’re more than welcome to do so,” Hawthorn told him. “Just how many am I to expect?”

“Not counting myself and you in the party, you will have thirteen dwarvish guests to dine with tomorrow,” he said with a smile. “Before you start fretting, you won’t have to do this alone. Once I finish speaking with Isengrim, I will come back to help you get everything ready.”

“I don’t have enough food in the smial for that many,” she said, getting up. “I’ll give you some money for shopping, if you don’t mind stopping by the markets on your way back?”

“I’ll take care of it. Right now, just get the letter and list ready to send to Lord Elrond,” he said, rising to his feet. “I shall see you shortly, Hawthorn.”

The Istar was true to his word; Hawthorn had written out the list and letter for her friend in Rivendell and was ensuring her clean home was tidy enough for her guests. She had just finished pulling out enough blankets and pillows for the company to use when they arrived when the man returned to her smial.

Together, they got the meal planned as well as furniture arranged so that the company could fit in the small home with some ease. As they worked, Gandalf shared what he’d done at Isengrim’s home and she was pleased to hear that he would keep her home locked up until the elves arrived to pack her belongings up. It surprised her when the wizard told her that Isengrim hated how her life had turned out, and he wished his niece well in life.

Truth be told, Hawthorn had been certain her Took relatives allowed her to remain in Tuckborough out of respect for her mother because a lot of them felt the same way about her as the rest of the hobbits in the Shire did. It made her feel better now that she knew her uncle did care in his own way.

The hobbit lass prepared a small supper for them and after the meal, she focused on her work as she wanted to honor her commitment and have this done before she left. It was late that night before the girl retired to her bed, wondering what would happen tomorrow evening.

The next morning dawned too early, but Hawthorn rose with the sun and made a hearty breakfast for her and the wizard. Gandalf enjoyed the meal, cautiously sidestepping any reference she made to paying him for the supplies he’d purchased yesterday. He knew her finances were barely enough to survive on, and he would not run the risk of her placing herself into a bind due to hosting a party she had not planned and saved for. The hobbit would possibly need those coins while on the road, and he’d make sure she had it.

After eating, she put all of the bedding onto the clothing lines outside so they would air out in time. When she came back in, the pair of them began cooking. Despite his wandering habits, Gandalf did cook rather well and often did so for the Baggins family when she’d been a fauntling. Truth be told, she had a soft spot for his baked cinnamon apples and he’d promised to make some for tonight as well as ensure she was given a portion.

Once everything was roasting, simmering, or baking, Hawthorn turned her attention to packing. She laid out her traveling clothing, double checking each garment to ensure there were no tears. Every item was folded and packed into her well-worn travel pack that had been handed down to her by her mother. Several bars of soap were placed into a special bag to keep them dry before being packed into the bag along with all of her handkerchiefs, and the hobbit buried her small money purse underneath her crafting projects. The hobbit lass had packed a sewing kit as well as her as knitting needles, crochet hooks, and enough yarn to last for a while. If they came to a town and she needed money, she knew she could make a few items to sell to raise a little bit more funds.

A pack of herbs was also placed into the bag, and a box with a well-insulated lining was put there too. A smaller box went into the pocket of her light weight coat for easy access, along with a handkerchief. The metal plate, bowl, and utensils were also packed.

Once that was done, Hawthorn put the bag on a chair and checked her mother’s bedroll, another thing she’d inherited from the adventurous hobbit matron along with the rest of her camping gear. The waterproof carrying case, which doubled as a liner to rest her blankets on, was in good shape and the lass grabbed several of her warmest knit blankets. She wrapped everything up in a tight roll, the carrying case keeping it all protected, and the dirty-blond haired girl tied it to the top of her pack.

“Outside of my brush and comb, I think that’s everything,” Hawthorn murmured, trying to go through her mental list to ensure she hadn’t forgotten anything important.

With a frown, the lass placed her heavier coat inside of her cloak and tied it into a second roll to be secured to the pack. Her wide brimmed hat went on top, and she nodded.

“Now that’s everything,” the hobbit told herself, going to the kitchen to check on the food.

“All done, Hawthorn,” Gandalf asked, reading one of her books while nibbling on a biscuit at the small kitchen table.

“I am,” she answered, pouring herself a glass of juice and offering him one as well. “Just a few odds and ends to pack in the morning, then I’ll be ready to go.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” the Istar commented. “Now, there’s something I need for you to keep in mind. Do you recall your mother’s tales of the dwarves?”

“Hobbit like in their enjoyment of food and good ale, inappropriate songs that will either embarrass you or make you laugh, stubborn, and loyal to a fault to their families,” the lass replied. 

“The leader of the company is fairly stubborn and set in his own ways,” Gandalf sighed. “He acknowledges the need for a hobbit but hates the idea of inviting strangers. I’ll do what I can, but you may find yourself at odds with him for a while as Thranduil’s actions left a deep scar in his mind.”

“Don’t expect me to keep my temper if he pushes me too hard,” Hawthorn advised. “Especially if I’m dealing with one of my bad days. I’ll do my best to be patient, but I can’t make any promises that I won’t snap back at him.”

“Oh my dear girl, I’m truly anticipating the confrontations you two will have,” he said with a wide smile, ducking when she tossed a biscuit at him. “In truth, his sister is strong willed and has a temper similar to your own so you will most likely be respected and fit in once you’ve had a few outbursts with him.”

“You do remember I’m not coming along to amuse you?”

Gandalf chuckled, eyes twinkling. Yes, he knew that but in truth, he was eager to see her blossom once she started making friendships with the dwarves. The Istar had no doubt she would once they got beneath the defenses she’d had to create after her accident.

“Oh I know but truthfully, my dear, I certainly expect to find some amusement as they grow accustomed to you,” he chuckled.

“If I find you’ve been plotting trouble behind my back, Mithrandir, I will tie your beard in a knot and decorate it with the most obnoxiously colored ribbons I can find,” she warned, making him laugh.

“I will keep that under advisement, my dear hobbit,” he laughed, shaking his head.

Oh, he couldn’t wait for the company to meet his friend because he knew they would be as good for her as she was for them!


	2. A Warm Welcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – The response to this new story has been phenomenal, and I am so happy that it’s been so accepted as it has been. A lot of you are trying to guess as to what has harmed Hawthorn, but I won’t have too many answers for you yet! Enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make money from this story.

The day passed pleasantly enough, and it was nearly sunset when the company finally arrived. Gandalf answered the door as Hawthorn had gone to take something for pain. She hadn’t wanted to show weakness in front of her guests, and he’d insisted that she take her herbal mixture before the dwarves arrived.

“Tharkûn,” the leader of the company greeted, taking a step into the small home. He paused when the wizard nodded his head, holding his hand up to stop them from entering further. The dwarf’s next words were halted when a hobbit lass came into the entry way, handing a small tray to the man.

“Thorin, I would present our hostess for the evening and the fourteenth member of your company, Hawthorn Baggins. Miss Baggins, this is Thorin II Oakenshield, crown prince of Erebor and king-in-exile of Durin’s Folk,” he greeted.

“Miss Baggins,” the dwarf greeted, giving her a small bow and blinking as she spoke in a strange language once she rose from her own curtsy. The words reminded him of spring, warm and full of dark earth, but it was a language he didn’t recognize.

The wizard, still holding the tray, bent his head while translating the language to the dwarves standing in the doorway. He had been honored when she’d asked him several hours ago to participate in the ritual and hoped this would help ease any tensions that might be lingering due to Erebor’s future king’s resentment to having an outsider join the company.

“You are welcome, Children of the Stone Father, to the home of this humble daughter of Yavanna, His beloved wife. I greet you as members of my family, welcome you as kin to my hearth so that you may take your ease and find shelter from turmoil,” he translated, watching as she lifted a cup of tea from the tray he was holding for her and handed it to the leader of the company.

At Gandalf’s nod, Thorin took the cup and sipped from it, tasting the lightly sweetened tea that was brewed from mint and chamomile. It was at the perfect temperature, and he felt something loosen around his heart. He had no idea that hobbits had their own ways of greeting honored guests, and he felt better knowing that his people would be welcome here by this lass.

She took the mug from him, laying it on the carved wooden tray before speaking again. Gandalf dutifully translated, sounding humble and quiet as he shared her words.

“As our Green Lady has blessed us so shall I share the blessings amongst our kin,” Hawthorn began once more. “You are welcome to my table to eat your fill, enjoying the bounties the wife of your Father has given to Her children. From the moment you step within this humble smial, all I have is yours to share.”

She picked up a small loaf of bread, handing it to Thorin. He took a bite, enjoying the soft texture of it as well as the lightly spiced honey glaze that flavored it. It was all he could do not to make a noise of pleasure as the spices exploded across his tongue, highlighted by the honey.

“I, Hawthorn Baggins, do welcome the sons of the husband of my mother, Lady Yavanna. Enter and be at peace.”

As Gandalf translated the final words, the lass sank into another curtsy. The dwarf lord was absolutely shocked by the ritual she’d just performed, touched beyond belief, but he managed to pull himself together. Thorin had not seen any ritual welcoming since before the mountain fell, and the dwarven response sprang to his lips despite how long it had been since he’d last performed it.

His eyes met hers as he began the ritual response, knowing Tharkûn would translate.

“Daughter of the wife of our Father, I thank you for the welcome of peace and your generosity. May the Stone Father bless you for opening your home to us, welcoming us to your hearth and table. We shall honor your gifts of welcome. Our blades will ever protect and shield you; our strength will ever be at your disposal. You have honored us and so shall we honor you,” he said, reaching for something he kept with him even though he had never used it.

Hawthorn sank into a curtsy again, eyes huge at the beautifully wrought dagger the dwarf had laid in her hands. The sheath was steel but was inlayed with what looked to be enameled panels. The top and very tip of it were dotted with beautiful sapphires. There was an inscription on the enameled areas, but it was in runes that she did not know how to read. The hilt of the dagger was wrapped in leather and gold wire, and the pommel had a sapphire as well. 

“I am honored, Master Oakenshield, and will be glad to ensure that we are forever held close by the bonds forged tonight,” she said, rising from her curtsy.

“As will I, Miss Baggins,” he said, deep voice gentle and full of respect. The ritual gift giving was something he’d not done in a very long time, and the sight of her appreciating the dagger was also deepening his slowly growing regard. She was treating it with admiration and giving it the deference it was due.

“Please, come inside. All I ask is that you leave the boots by the door please. My home is yours so please come inside, make yourselves comfortable and be at ease,” she said, giving all of them a soft smile before heading to the kitchen to check on a few things.

“I have not been welcomed in such a formal manner in decades,” Thorin said once she was gone, unlacing his boots and pulling them off.

“Hawthorn is a good lass with a pure heart,” Gandalf said. “When I told her of the quest and the reasons you have for going against the dragon, her first words to me were that she had wished her grandfather had known of the situation your people had suffered when settling in Ered Luin.”

“Her grandfather? Why would she state such a thing,” the dwarf lord asked, hanging his coat up and setting both his pack and weapons in a small alcove near the door.

“Her mother was Belladonna Took, eldest daughter of Gerontius Took, who was Thain of the Shire when Durin’s Folk settled in Ered Luin,” he told him. “He would have sent food and supplies to aid your people, and Hawthorn was unhappy with the knowledge of her people having so much and their siblings through the hobbit’s creator not having enough.”

That surprised the entire company, and all of them paused in putting their things away. Thorin’s voice was rough as he questioned the wizard’s words.

“She believes he would have sent us aid?”

“She does because she was aware of the generosity that made her grandfather such a wonderful hobbit,” Gandalf said in response. “He was the one who gave her sanctuary after her parents died. I had the honor of calling him friend, and I can say this with absolute certainty. Had Gerontius Took known of the situation your people were in, he would have insisted on you taking supplies and aid from him.”

Seeing the look on the dwarf lord’s face, the Istar went on to ease the other’s pain and worry.

“She’s also aware of the reason why you are slow to trust outsiders, Thorin, and I dare say you are taking your rest in the home of the one hobbit in the Shire who can understand your reasons more than the other inhabitants of this peaceful land will.”

“This is not a safe trek for anyone, Tharkûn, and while our own women are used to such hardships, she will find it difficult to be away from her comforts,” the head of Durin’s Folk commented.

“I will not betray her trust, Thorin, but Hawthorn has not had an easy life since before her parents died. You will see the signs of it during your stay here tonight,” he said softly. “Now, it’s time to shelve the heavier discussions until after the meal. You and your company are in for a treat as our hostess is an excellent cook.”

The dwarves gave a cheerful response to that, following the wizard to the dining room. All of them could see the homey touches, but there was something that confused them a great deal. The smial was small, showing signs of needing repairs in areas, and a lot of the furniture was old and obviously in need of attention. Then there were the occasional signs of wealth in regards to the books in one particular room, the rare piece of furniture that looked old but well crafted, and the dishes that were waiting for them on the table.

Something didn’t quite add up for all of them, and quite a few were very curious as to the disparity in the signs of her status. Her voice showed that she was from a well to do family and given how many books had been left open, obviously in the middle of being read, the lass was certainly well educated. 

They were pulled away from their thoughts by the soft sound of humming as the lass came through the end door, platters in her hands, and the company sprang to help. Despite her protests, the group had the food out of the kitchen and onto the table. 

The meal was the first one she’d enjoyed in such a long time as she had rarely dined with family, taking her meals alone since the deaths of her parents. The hobbit laughed quietly at the jokes and merry songs that took place, blushing but smiling slightly when a belching contest broke out.

Gandalf spotted the looks of approval passed around when she didn’t protest the normal behavior the dwarves used when enjoying a meal with friends and family. She hadn’t noticed the expressions or the fact that she’d been tested a bit by them, and he knew she’d passed the test.

“Tell me, Miss Baggins, do you know how to defend yourself,” Dwalin asked after Bofur finished a rather obnoxious drinking song.

“I do,” Hawthorn replied. “I’m all right with the use of the quarter staff and fairly good with throwing things. I’d hoped to pick up some throwing knives the next time I was out of the Shire, but the opportunity hasn’t come yet. The knives here are typically either tools or for eating. No balance at all for what I need so I will continue to save my money for when I finally find the right blades.”

“You’ve travelled some then,” Balin asked, looking pleased with her answer.

“I make the occasional journey to Rivendell; Lord Elrond was a friend of my mother, and he insists on my staying for a while whenever I go there to pick up something he makes for me,” she said, looking almost haunted for a long moment. “I have often wanted to go beyond the borders of Imladris and see what else is out there; now I have the chance to do so and will be able to do something to help other people while I make this journey.”

Between her words and the expression on her face, the dwarves said nothing more on the subject and while Hawthorn went to retrieve a few more candles, the company cleaned all of the dishes by working together. Everything was spotless, and she blinked when she realized what they had done when going into the kitchen to retrieve her box of matches she’d left in there by accident.

“Thank you so much,” the hobbit lass said, giving them a soft half-smile.

“You’re welcome, Miss Baggins,” Bombur said as he put the last dish away for her. “After all the work you did to create such an amazing meal, it was the least we could do to clean up.”

“I’m grateful for the help, Master Bombur,” Hawthorn said softly, leading them back into the dining room.

She placed the candles in strategic areas of the dining room, lighting them and setting one near where Thorin and Gandalf were sitting. As she worked, the young woman blinked when she heard the dwarf lord’s report regarding the meeting he’d attended.

“Wait, you mean to say your fellow lords won’t help? They must know of the situation your people face?”

“They are aware of the situation and were still unwilling to aid us. Even my cousin would not agree,” Thorin answered bitterly, then was taken aback by the look of anger on his hostess’s face.

“Even family? Oh, sod it all, what is their problem? Family is supposed to stick together, and the plight of those needing good food and shelter is not one to ignore! Someone needs to give them a good smack for being so selfish!”

It seemed all of them were rather taken aback by the hobbit’s angry words, and it heartened them even if they would never admit it. Gandalf was quick to change the subject by pulling out a map that was familiar to Thorin, and the conversation was turned to the potential secret entrance as well as the key that the dwarf lord took with shaking hands.

“The information to find this door must be inscribed somewhere on this map, but I do not have the skills to find it,” the wizard commented, making the hobbit frown. “There are others in Middle-earth who can do so.”

Hawthorn peeked over the dwarf’s shoulder, looking down at the map. Given her education and means of supporting herself, she knew a lot about maps as well as books that most people would have not known. Something caught her eye, and she bit her lip.

“May I borrow your map for a few moments, Master Oakenshield? I might be able to determine what it is that’s hidden on it and send us to the right expert instead of floundering around, wasting time.”

He handed it back to her, and they all watched as she took it with careful fingers. The hobbit tilted it towards the candle, then frowned as she examined the parchment.

“I need my work lamp for this. These candles aren’t bright enough,” the lass commented, heading towards her study.

The group followed her, standing outside of the study door as the lass blew a strand of hair out of her eyes while holding the map very carefully under the light of a specially designed lamp. Balin, Ori, and Thorin recognized it, realizing the lass was highly educated and was quite possibly a scribe or scholar herself. The lamp was made for scribes in order to have the best lighting with fewer candles.

Hawthorn, not realizing the entire company was outside of her study door, set the map down on her desk and headed to her bookcases. She muttered to herself, too low to hear, as her fingers trailed over the spines of the heavy leather-bound tomes that graced the shelves.

The young scholar pulled a very thick book out, carrying it back to her desk. She didn’t sit, flipping through pages before reading silently. Whatever it was she found had the girl looking at the map again before turning as though to leave the room when she realized the group was standing outside her door.

“Master Oakenshield, do you have an idea on how old this map could be?”

“Several centuries at least,” he replied. “I remember my grandfather having it in his possession, but he never shared any knowledge regarding the creation of it.”

“One last question, do you know if any of the scholars of this time could read the runes written upon it,” Hawthorn asked. “The style seems old, but I have no knowledge of your history and culture.”

“Not many but there are a few,” he commented. “None in this company can fluently do so. The language is archaic, even by our standards.”

“Mithrandir was correct; this map holds the clues to tell us how to find the secret entry into your mountain,” Hawthorn shared, seeing the faces of the others light up with hope. “The problem is that there are only two locations where we can read what has been cleverly hidden. I think the creator of this map wrote the information needed to find the other point of entry into Erebor on the parchment using moon-runes, and there are only two places I know of where we can read them. Caras Galadhon in Lothlórien has a location set up where it can be read as does Imladris.”

“Why would elves be the only ones with the tools and abilities to read these moon-runes,” Gloin asked, feeling unhappy by what she’d shared.

“Moon-runes were created by your people back in the days when dwarves and elves called each other friends and allies. Indeed, some of the books I have seen in Imladris speak of one of the entrances into Moria having inscriptions written in ithildin in both your language and that of the elves,” she told him. “Moria once had the ability to read runes written in ithildin but as that great city is lost to all, we must seek out the elves to determine what these runes say. Unless any of you know of another of the great dwarven strongholds that has the equipment necessary to read the runes and someone who understands the old language?”

“The West-Gate of Moria does indeed have moon-letters written upon the doors,” Balin said quietly. “The dwarves were aided by Celebrimbor, an elf who the children of Mahal called friend.”

“The Doors of Durin,” Thorin replied grimly. “No, that way is lost to us and we will not make that attempt again.”

“Lord Elrond or Lord Celeborn has the ability to read the ancient writings of your people and should be able to tell us when the runes can be read. I wish the use of the moon-runes here was the more common form, but it is not. The more intricate styles, which kept the secrets of the dwarf lords hidden well, require the exact moon and season that the letters were written under.”

“How do you know so much of this, Miss Baggins,” Ori asked, eyes wide as he absorbed the information the hobbit was sharing.

“One of the ways I earn my way in this world is by restoring old books and maps as well as translating them when their owners wish for it,” Hawthorn told the dwarven scribe. “Occasionally, I translate older books for Lord Elrond and have come across the history of the moon-runes. The writing, which uses mithril, leaves an unusual texture to the parchment that can be felt if you’re familiar with it. It also leaves an odd pattern to any parchment or item it’s used on. I was interested in it and decided to research it during one of my times as his guest.”

The dwarf lord was quiet as she put her book away, bringing the map back to him.

“I know you do not trust the elves, Master Oakenshield, but Lord Elrond is not the self-absorbed person the ruler of Mirkwood is. He will not turn away any request for aid you might ask him,” she said, then drew in a slow breath when she read the uncertainty on his face.

“If you do not feel that you can bend to do so, then allow me to ask him. I can approach him as a scholar of older texts that you have hired and ask him about the details of the moon-letters, see if he’d be willing to help me find the secret within,” the lass continued, shocking the company into silence with the depths of her generosity.

“We will leave for Rivendell at first light,” Thorin told her. “As grateful as I am for your generosity, Miss Baggins, I will do what I must to gain the secrets this map holds and will ask him for his aid in reading the runes. Balin, please present her with the contract.”

The scholar pulled the folded parchment out of his pocket, and they watched as the hobbit frowned while reading the terms. She said nothing of how it had been done, and the lass simply removed the stopper from her inkwell before picking up a quill. 

The contract Balin was handed had her name written in a beautiful script, and he placed the document in a safe place.

“Welcome, Miss Baggins, to the Company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

That brought a rowdy cheer from the group, making her smile in shy delight.

“Thank you, Master Balin. The hour grows late, and I’m sure all of you would like to clean up and rest. I have only the one washroom but the tub is large enough to accommodate more than one if you are used to sharing. I’m afraid I don’t have enough spare rooms, there’s only two outside of the man sized one I keep for my visitors and my own room. I do have bedding aired and ready for all of you; they’re on the chest in the hall near the washroom.”

The group dispersed, and Hawthorn sat down at her desk to finish the last bit of the project. Hopefully, she could drop it off tomorrow and collect her payment before they left the Shire. The money might be needed on this journey, and she also disliked leaving a project unfinished.

The singing and chatting of the dwarves soon silenced as they found their beds, and the lass kept working. She had lost herself in her task and had just finished the last sentence when a voice called from her doorway.

“Miss Baggins?”

Hawthorn jumped, turning to spot the silver haired dwarf. He looked as if he’d been asleep and was ready to do so again.

“Is everything all right, Master Dori?”

“I merely went for some water, miss, but why are you awake at this hour? You will not get much rest before Thorin wakes us all to start on our journey,” he asked.

“I had a last task to finish,” the hobbit lass assured him. “It was something I promised to complete soon, and I could not leave it unfinished before I leave the Shire.”

“You should rest, lass,” he said, remembering how many times he’d had to do this with his younger brother.

“I shall,” she promised, blowing out the candles in her lamp. “Rest well, Master Dori.”

“Same to you, Miss Baggins,” he answered, going to the kitchen while she headed to her own bedroom.

Hawthorn was quick to ready herself for her bed and was soon asleep, dreaming of silver letters and deep voices in song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note - This chapter was interesting to write simply because I enjoy changing things up from the books and movies as well as working on rituals for each culture. It’s intriguing to see what I can come up with, and I have found those scenes to be fun to write. Thank you for reading this chapter, and please let me know what you thought of it. I have links on my profiles to my LJ, tumblr, and yahoo group! ~ Laran


	3. Leaving the Shire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – So I am ecstatic about the response to this. You guys are SO amazing; you really feed the muses with your thoughts about this story. I also have good news too! As some of you might know, I have been in a holding pattern for a hearing regarding disability for my health issue. I was given a date for the hearing today! In celebration, I’m posting a chapter. Please keep me in your thoughts between now and the end of July so that the people in charge are understanding and will grand me disability status so I’m no longer fretting so much about finances and health care.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

Despite the fact she’d only had a few hours of sleep, Hawthorn was awake as soon as she heard the company stirring. She washed for the day, donning her small clothes before pulling on dark, ankle length trousers. The lass tucked in a gray shirt, ensuring it was laced securely, and then fastened on a wide leather belt that she’d put the beautiful dagger onto. She also donned a leather vest that would help keep her breasts secured since the camisole could only do so much. The lass was keenly aware she wasn’t as blessed in that area as most hobbit women were, but she preferred as much support as she could since she’d be traveling with a group of males.

She brushed her hair, pulling the heavy curls into a tight bun and securing it with heavy pins that could take the punishment of traveling. It had taken time to find the right kind and while they weren’t pretty, at least her hair was off of her neck and out of her face.

The last items were packed and pack tied off, and the lass had both pack, coat, and hat in hand as she hurried to her kitchen. Hawthorn set her belongings down on her mother’s glory box, and she went in to help make a filling breakfast.

Once the meal was enjoyed and some of the company washed and put her things away, the lass told Bombur to take what spices and anything else out of her pantry and cupboards that could be of use on the trip. As he went to do that, Hawthorn slid into her jacket and settled her wide brimmed hat onto her head. Her pack was slung over her shoulder, the book she’d worked on under an arm as well as another, and she pulled her trusty staff out of the hall closet.

The hobbit found most of the company outside, inspecting the tack of the ponies. Bofur took her pack, grinning at her thanks and strapping it onto the back of one of the ponies designated to carry their belongings.

“Master Oakenshield,” the newest member of the company called, diverting his attention away from his cousin.

“Yes, Miss Baggins?”

“I would like to ask for a small delay in our departure,” she requested. “On the way out of the Shire is a smial where a client lives. I finished the commission last night and would like to ensure it’s delivered to him before we leave. I promised to have it to him before the end of the week. It won’t be out of our way.”

“All right,” he said, mounting his pony and watching as she locked up her home. 

The lass handed the key to Gandalf, who put it into a small packet before whistling for a nearby bird. Within seconds, the bird was carrying the parcel away and the dwarf lord was hopeful that this wasn’t a bad thing.

At first, the ride away from Miss Baggins’s home was rather pleasant with the group talking amongst themselves while following the lass’s directions to the home she needed to make a delivery to. The young woman was riding near the middle of the group, looking fairly relaxed for a while until more and more hobbits began their work for the day.

Dark whispers drifted to the dwarves while they headed to their first stop of the day, and all of them could see the rigid set to the girl’s shoulders as she kept her head up in spite of the vicious comments being made.

Once they arrived at a very grand smial, Hawthorn slid off of her pony and handed the reins to Bifur, who had held his hand out for them. The company wasn’t too far from the front door and could see and hear everything going on around them.

Dwalin’s face grew stern as he heard the whispers from the yard behind them that became louder while their new burglar headed to the door.

“Seems she found someone to take her on,” a woman’s voice said, sounding disgusted. “Do you think she’s leaving the Shire for good?”

More comments about the girl was heard, and the dwarves could see the tight look on Gandalf’s face. It was obvious he was holding onto his temper, but it wouldn’t take much to set him off.

The door soon opened, and a woman popped her head out. There was a look of disgust as she sent one of the children back into the smial for someone. One of the other children was drawn away from Hawthorn with a reprimand to stay away from her.

An elderly hobbit came out and took both of the books from her, looking the new one over.

“You’re early with it,” he said abruptly.

“I’ve an errand to take care of out of the Shire,” Hawthorn answered in a pleasant tone. “I wanted to make sure to bring it to you so that I wouldn’t break my word and also return the original to you.”

The hobbit nodded, looking through the book. There was a look on his face that Balin was quick to recognize, having seen it before whenever he or one of his people tried to get the value promised for the work they’d done.

“It looks all right – I’ll get the two pieces,” he said, not quite hiding a smirk when the girl stiffened.

“Mr. Proudfoot, you promised five for the amount of work I had to do for this project,” she objected politely. “I spent a great deal of time working to ensure this book was translated in the method you asked for.”

The advisor surprised Thorin and Dwalin when he gave a low growl before sliding off of his pony. With a gentle flick of his wrist to summon the company’s scribe, Ori was off of his pony as well and the pair of them headed to the two hobbits.

“If I may have a look at your work, Miss Baggins? I am not only Thorin’s royal advisor but also the one who instructs the royal scribes and am the Guild Master of the Scrivener’s Guild of Erebor. Ori was my latest apprentice and is now a journeyman for our guild.”

Hawthorn watched as the older hobbit seemed both amazed and bemused with the titles Balin had just dropped, handing the dwarf the book she had worked so hard on.

The tome was beautifully bound, and the writing inside was nothing short of breathtaking. Each page held a paragraph in three different languages. The first two looked to be off shoots of each other but the third was Westron, and he looked at the lass.

“Did you do all of this yourself, Miss Baggins,” he asked, showing it to Ori and seeing the look of appreciation of someone who knew her craft well and was at a mastery status even if she didn’t hold the title.

“I did,” she said, looking shy. “I learned how to create my own books from Erestor in Imladris, and this project was originally in ancient Hobbitish. Master Proudfoot wanted the ancient in the book followed by modern Hobbitish and then Westron to be used as a primer for his grandchildren’s education.” 

“You’re saying you not only bound the pages, Miss Baggins, but did two translations from the oldest form of your language as well?”

“I did, Master Ori,” the hobbit said, blinking when Balin turned to the company.

“Your Majesty,” the advisor began. “If I may have a moment of your time, I believe you should see the end results of Miss Baggins’s latest project.”

While the male hobbit paled, Hawthorn blushed as Thorin dismounted and moved briskly to where his advisor held the book. He checked the binding, admiring the way the cover had been embossed and stained to decorate the title, and then gave a low nod of his head when he saw the elegant hand the lass had used when writing each translation out.

“Such a book would fetch fifteen pieces in our markets now but in Erebor, it would have gone for nearly twice that,” the soon to be king informed the group. “It is rare to find a scribe with the patience to bind her own materials as well as apply her skills at translating with a hand so elegant.”

“Fifteen pieces,” the older hobbit choked.

“At least,” Thorin said in a tone of voice that every nosy hobbit could hear. “It is obvious Miss Baggins is a master of her craft, and she deserves every piece of gold for this quality of work. Amongst my people, we are quick to admire the work of those who have such a talent. Based on this work alone, I believe the head of the guild for the scribes would certainly be giving her a mastery level as well as begging her to work with them to help restore the old texts that are in dire need of it. It would be a request I would approve of based upon this work. Balin, I take it you agree?”

“I certainly do, your majesty,” the older dwarrow answered, pleased to be seeing the reactions to this information on the faces of all of the hobbits that had been so cruel in their words about the hobbit maiden.

Ori, Balin, and Thorin could hear the male hobbit’s teeth as he ground them together. Both king and scribe were very much aware of what the advisor had wanted, and they were glad to be of service if it meant the lass got what she deserved.

Master Proudfoot snarled, dropping a bag of coins into her hand and snatching the book. It was obvious he was upset and couldn’t do much about it considering her work had been given such high praise by royalty.

“This is the last of our business together, girl,” he managed to grit out. “I shall find another for work of this nature from now on.”

“Considering your project was my last one as I shall be leaving the Shire,” Hawthorn began. “I would recommend you find another scribe to handle any future projects. Good day, Master Proudfoot.”

“Leaving the Shire eh? Hope you don’t return,” he snarled back, heading into his smial. “Unnatural thing like you is certainly bad for all of us.”

The door slammed behind him, and her hand closed around the small bag of coins. It was obvious she was rattled by his words but was managing to keep her composure.

“Thank you, all of you, for your help,” Hawthorn said softly, dropping the pouch into her pocket for the moment.

“It’s the truth, Miss Baggins,” Balin told her. “You are certainly a master of your craft, and you deserve honest payment for the work you’ve done. I couldn’t stomach seeing you be cheated of the money you have rightfully earned.”

The hobbit lass managed to bow her head, silently thanking them before moving back to her pony. Thorin and Ori helped her onto it, moving to their own mounts while she settled her feet in the stirrups and placing the butt of her staff against one foot to brace it.

As the company restarted their journey to the borders of the Shire, Hawthorn could see the group slowly maneuver themselves so they were no longer riding in a line but rather in a small cluster with her in the middle. It took her a moment to realize that they were trying to shelter her from the harsh looks of her own people, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop the tears that were trying to form. She hadn’t felt so protected since her parents had died, and it made her heart swell with emotion.

Fili was the first to start a conversation, hoping to keep her attention on him and not the horrible words that were being bandied about in regards to their burglar. So far, it seemed to be working since he was asking about how she’d learned to work her craft. Hawthorn’s voice was quiet but slowly gaining in confidence as she shared how much she’d learned from Erestor, who was one of the elves of Imladris and a scholar of great reputation.

Thorin approved of his nephew’s actions, and he was glad that Fili was able to keep her distracted from what was being said about her. Gandalf, who was riding on his left side, shook his head when he glanced up at the wizard.

“I’ll explain later,” he said. “At least, I’ll speak of what I can because a lot of it is very personal to her. I had no idea it had gotten to be this bad. Hobbits are typically one of the nicest people I know.”

“The only one hobbit who could be called nice, Tharkûn, is the burglar,” the monarch growled. “The rest of them have done nothing but anger me and the company.” 

“I know,” the wizard said softly. “As I said, I had no idea this was happening. Hopefully, we’ll be out of the Shire soon enough and this will no longer continue.”

“See if you can take us out the quickest way possible, Tharkûn. My dwarrows will react if pushed too hard; the lass did us a kindness last night, and they will lose their control if these words and actions do not end soon,” the king told the Istar. “I would not hold them back should they lash out.”

Gandalf nodded and took them along paths that would get them out of the lands of the hobbits quickly. As much as he would love to punish the small people for how they treated one of their own, he would not allow Hawthorn to see such a thing. She deserved better, and he would make sure she found her happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note - Balin can be fun to write! I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know what you thought of it. See you next time. ~ Laran


	4. History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – You guys are so awesome. The feedback for the last chapter was incredible; you made me smile so much. I hope you know how much I really value and appreciate all of you!
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make money from this story.

Thorin called for the company to stop after reaching the boundaries of the Shire. It was still early afternoon, but he knew the ponies had been driven at a hard pace and would need rest. As he unsaddled his own pony and groomed him, he could see Miss Baggins doing the same for her own mount. Her experience with traveling was a relief to him; the company would not have to spend time teaching her how to set up and strike camp.

It didn’t take all of them long to get their campsite set up, and the wizard nodded at Thorin. He knew answers were needed, but Gandalf had a concern of his own to address before he could give the dwarf lord the explanations he sought.

“She’s got too much pent up energy and bottled emotion; it will affect her ability to rest tonight if not taken care of,” he said quietly to the dwarf lord when the other approached the ancient man. “Let me see if I can’t get her to calm down before I explain her history.”

The dwarf nodded, watching as Tharkûn meandered towards the hobbit lass. A few moments later, both of them were standing in a small cleared area out of the reach of the bedrolls that had been put out. 

What happened next was a thing of beauty, and all of the dwarrow were watching as the hobbit and Istar sparred together while using their staffs. Hawthorn was graceful, moving fluidly through simple turns and dodging the hits that might have connected had she not been as swift as she was. 

“I’d feel better if the lass had something other than a staff to protect her,” Dwalin muttered. “That being said, she’s pretty damned amazing with that thing. The form she uses isn’t fancy, but it definitely ensures she’s not got any openings to be used against her.”

“It looks like Tharkûn might have taught her,” Thorin replied, seeing certain movements the two used often. “If he did, he did a very good job.”

The hobbit lass was significantly calmer once the spar had ended, and the burly dwarf the leader of Durin’s Folk called friend spoke up.

“Well done, lass, but the problem with staffs are they can break easily,” he pointed out.

“Not this one, Master Dwalin,” she said, giving him a tiny smile. It was the first they had seen from her since the confrontation at the Proudfoot smial. “This staff was created in a way that is remembered only by one elf in particular, a survivor of the fall of Gondolin. This staff was the first and last he has created since then.”

“So it won’t break easily then,” the warrior asked, blinking when she handed him the weapon.

“Take a look at it,” Hawthorn said, stepping back so all of the dwarrow could examine the staff in the Dwalin’s hands. 

In truth, it was a thing of beauty. The wood had been harvested from the strongest tree in Arda and had been carved with intricate care. Tiny elvish runes were worked alongside the sweeping waves of lines that were almost water like in form. The runes spoke of blessings for health, strength, and protection.

“Is that mithril used in all of the engravings,” Oin asked, turning to the lass.

“It is,” she replied. “The inside of the staff also holds a core of mithril to strengthen it. Once he had finished it, he wove every spell he knew for protection, health, and strength as well as charming it to be unbreakable. During the rare times he accompanies Lord Elrond to the Shire, he has examined it carefully to ensure nothing has worn out.”

“An elegant and very valuable weapon,” Dori commented as the staff was handed back to its owner. “I am glad to see you have something you’ll be able to rely on for the rest of your life.”

“He has spent a great deal of time crafting and maintaining the staff. Because of that, he has become a dear friend of the family,” Hawthorn told them, leaning against the staff. 

Gandalf moved towards Thorin, gesturing for him to walk with him while the company was focused on the hobbit. The two hadn’t gone far, within earshot if trouble arose, when the wizard broke his silence to share something that hadn’t been spoken of for years.

“Hawthorn’s parents were considered to be an unusual if unlucky pairing,” the Istar began. “Bungo was the scholar, quiet, gentle, and generous to a fault. Belladonna was the adventurous type; she was forever leaving the Shire after she left her tween years to explore and see what was out there. She traveled with me quite a few times and befriended Lord Elrond and his family.

“She was in her late forties when Bungo finally managed to convince her of just how much he adored her. He built a home for her as a wedding gift, and she accepted his suit. It surprised everyone because they were so opposite in personality and beliefs, and yet they were incredibly happy together.”

His voice trailed off for a moment as he spoke about a subject that had been very painful to him.

“Most hobbits called them unlucky because they believed Belladonna’s unnatural wildness had affected her ability to have children. Hobbits are, by nature, a very fertile bunch and she had only the one child, Hawthorn. To outsiders, it was not a good sign and they kept a wary eye on the fauntling as she grew, waiting for her to show signs of her mother’s unnatural behaviors or worse.

“That dear girl is a mix of the best qualities of her parents and has very few of their bad ones,” Gandalf said. “She adored reading and learning, much to Bungo’s delight, and she also enjoyed having adventures with her mother. Bungo was proud of that, and he allowed Belladonna to encourage it while he supplied every book and learning tool he could get his hands on to help his daughter grow in knowledge. While she was a fauntling, Hawthorn was always smiling bright enough to challenge the sun’s radiance and singing sweetly to any tune she heard or made up.”

Thorin listened, trying to picture the family the wizard was speaking of. Hawthorn’s smiles were always shy and restrained, and he couldn’t seem to picture the sunny disposition that Gandalf had said she’d once had.

“She was their princess, and she adored them in return,” the wizard said, voice soft. “I was lucky to be included in that little family circle. Hawthorn learned what the elves called me when she was five and decided to use that as her special name for me since I’m known as Gandalf here.

“It was on her first real adventure with her mother and me when the sunshine left her, and the three of us were left longing to see it blossom inside of her once again.”

The dwarf lord waited, hearing the pain in the older man’s voice. He wanted to know what it was that made this one hobbit to be considered so repugnant by her people when the lass had shown nothing but gracious kindness towards them.

“We had planned to go to Rivendell so Hawthorn could practice her Sindarin and return some books I had picked up for her,” he said. “Bungo insisted she go because this would be beneficial to her education, and we had it planned out as perfectly as we could. She was twenty two then, just barely into her tweens, and so excited about her first trip out of the Shire. It was going well until we were attacked by a group of orcs.”

Thorin winced, just knowing what those foul creatures would try to do to a young child, but said nothing to allow the other to continue with the tale.

“Belladonna and I managed to fight most of them off, but one managed to get by us. Hawthorn used a frying pan to keep him away, but something went wrong and she was off balance by the edge of a small overhang. Before either of us could reach her, she and her opponent went flying off the edge.

“She barely managed to survive the fall and attack, and my magic only can do so much when it comes to healing. We made it to Rivendell, and Lord Elrond worked with his healers for hours to try to save her life. Hawthorn did regain strength, but her life was affected by the fall in many ways. We had to stay through the winter with the elves and left only when she could walk without too much pain.”

“What injuries would cause them to shun her as they have?”

“That I cannot answer as it is her place to speak of it and not mine,” the wizard said. “She does have the occasional flare up for pain in the areas that were injured; the staff was created for her so she’d have both weapon and help walking when the need arises. Lord Elrond ensures she has the herbs she needs to manage the pain when it becomes too much for her.

“Word of her fall reached the Shire, and she was shunned from all parties and activities most tweens are encouraged to attend. The isolation reached the point that when her parents died, her father’s family refused to follow his Will and evicted his daughter from the only home she’d ever known. Bungo was a hobbit of considerable means, and all she was allowed to take with her were the items her mother brought into the marriage as well as anything bought after the wedding. She was not given a single coin that she should have inherited from her father. Fortunately, Hawthorn was kept from being homeless by her grandfather, but she’s had to work hard to keep herself fed.”

Gandalf was quiet for several long minutes, looking blankly at the path before them. The dwarf beside him said nothing, waiting for him to continue.

“Had I known of her situation, I would have taken her to Rivendell to get her away from all of the torment but I had lost a friend and needed time away. I should have been here and will always regret what my actions have allowed. At least now, I have the opportunity to remedy that once this quest is completed.”

“She does not mean to return to the Shire,” Thorin asked, realizing that this girl was set to give up what little she had to help them.

“No, she has no intention of returning to the land of her birth. A letter was sent to Lord Elrond, and he’ll see to it her belongings are packed and brought to him to store until she finds a safe place to make her home. I mean to see to it she has everything she needs to be happy,” the wizard replied. “I want to hear her sing again as well as see a true smile. She has yet to do so in my presence.”

The dwarf lord was silent for a short while, pondering over what he’d been told. The fact she had lost so much and given up the rest before going on a quest that most would deem insane humbled him somewhat. She’d proven herself to be generous and welcoming the night before by performing the hobbit welcoming ritual, and now he was learning more about the puzzle that was Hawthorn Baggins. The heir of Durin was gradually finding himself interested in solving the puzzle.

“Regardless of whether or not we succeed in retaking Erebor, we will help Miss Baggins find her new home,” the dwarf said, looking up at the wizard.

“Thank you, Thorin. The help would greatly be appreciated,” Gandalf replied.

The pair said nothing as they made their way back to the camp, and the wizard laughed when he spotted several of the dwarves staring at the hobbit in shock. The others were sporting grins, staring at the crudely drawn target that had been placed on a tree. 

“I see you had Hawthorn demonstrate her prowess at throwing things,” the wizard laughed.

Thorin checked the target, recognizing Nori’s knives and realizing all of them had hit the target dead center. It seemed that they would certainly have to get her better equipped because she had an excellent eye and aim.

“We’ll have to check the armory when we reach Rivendell and see if they have balanced knives that fit her hands,” the future king told the wizard. “If not, perhaps I can see what can be done to properly equip her. Best to ensure she’s as armed as possible for this journey.”

“Agreed,” Gandalf said, taking a seat on a log and watching as Hawthorn helped pull the weapons out before returning them to their owner.

The lass sat on a log, digging into a pocket to pull out the small box she kept there. A tiny vial was removed, and she took the contents before returning the empty vial back into the box.

“All right, Hawthorn,” the wizard asked as she put the box into her pocket again.

“Just hurting some, Mithrandir,” the lass answered back. “I’ll be all right. It’s been a long while since I’ve been on the back of a pony, and I’m starting to feel it now. I thought it would be best to nip it in the bud before it could bloom into worse.”

He nodded, watching her put her coat away on her pack. The lass had set her bedroll up near his, and he was pleased to see it. For the moment, the immortal being knew he was the closest thing she had to family here and would be pleased to step into that role for her.

Dinner was soon served, and Hawthorn was quick to praise Bombur on the meal he’d created for the company. The dwarf gave her a pleased smile, thanking her for both her kind words and the supplies she’d donated. The herbs would go a long way to ensuring they had good meals during their quest, and she simply smiled at him

“Better to be of use than rotting in my cupboards,” she told him, finishing the rabbit and potatoes he’d made.

Kili came by, taking her water skin and plate since he had duties to handle both, and after a short time, he returned her items to her. She thanked him, putting them up before taking her seat back on the log. 

Ori blinked when he spotted what she held in her hands and was quick to pull out his own knitting needles to keep his hands busy. She gave him a small smile, glad to see that she wasn’t the only one who had brought busywork with her for the evenings.

Bofur was the one who started telling tales, making the company laugh at the silliness of some of them. Bifur shared a tale as well, and Gandalf quietly translated for the hobbit so she could experience the tale of an adventurous dwarf who had fallen in love. The story was upbeat and funny but also sweet, and Hawthorn gave a shy smile as she listened.

“What about you, Miss Baggins,” Kili asked after Bifur was finished. “Do you have any tales that your people share?”

“Not like what you have or the stories the other races have,” Hawthorn answered, not pausing her work as she did so. “There’s a tale of one of my ancestors that’s spoken of mostly to frighten fauntlings out of having any interest in adventures as well as one story your people should know rather well.”

“The Courtship of Yavanna and Mahal,” Balin asked, eyes gleaming as he did so.

“Yes, though we have it from Her point of view,” she told him, blinking when Fili asked another question.

“What’s this story about your ancestor,” the blond dwarf queried, sounding very interested.

“The story is about one of my great uncles, Bandobras Took,” Hawthorn began. “His brother was my mother’s great grandfather if that helps establish family link here. Now, Uncle Bandobras was known for many things. To date, there has not been a hobbit to reach his height. He was large enough to ride a horse, not a pony.”

The dwarves blinked, murmuring in surprise while Gandalf chuckled and settled himself to listen to the tale that he’d shared with the lass when she’d been young.

“Uncle Bandobras was given the nickname the Bullroarer when he was younger, and he was one of the bravest Tooks to come from that line of the family. He had a chance to prove it too.

“The Shire had not had any serious issues for well over eleven hundred years after our people came to dwell there. Our borders are protected due to the kindness of the Dúnedain as they continue to follow the commands issued by the king of Arnor before the kingdom fell,” Hawthorn said, keeping her gaze on her work and not realizing she had every dwarf listening to her.

“In the year 2740, in the Third Age, a group of orcs from the Misty Mountains decided to invade Eriador. The Rangers of the North fought against them for seven years to keep the invading force away from the Shire, but one group managed to slip through.

“This particular group was led by their king, Golfimbul, who was said to be particularly nasty and dangerous,” she continued. “They entered the Shire through the Northfarthing, not caring about who they hurt or what damage they dealt.

“For a while, no one was sure what to do but my uncle, who was living in Long Cleeve, quickly put together a group of hobbits who were willing to fight to keep their homes safe. They crossed the river Norbourn and attacked the band of orcs. Uncle Bandobras led the charge, going straight for the orc king. With one swing of his club, he knocked the foul creature’s head off. It went flying for a hundred yards before landing in a rabbit hole. 

“Dismayed and disorganized with the loss of their leader, the orcs fled and have not returned to the Shire since. The battle became known as the Battle of Greenfields.”

There was a long silence before Dwalin asked the question that was in nearly everyone’s mind.

“That isn’t made up, is it?”

“Oh no, not at all. In fact, I believe Mithrandir may have known Bullroarer,” she answered, counting several stitches before looking up. “I have a portrait of him in my home too. The picture of the hobbit with a club and a half-pint?”

“I saw the portrait,” Ori replied, knitting in his lap. “That was an amazing story, Miss Baggins. When people mention halflings, most of us think that no one ever fought.”

Hawthorn winced at the term, not liking it.

“Just to keep things on a light note from now on, please refrain from addressing hobbits as halflings. Though you mean it because we’re half the size of most of the races, save yours, it means something different to hobbits and is quite hurtful,” she said, glad that it hadn’t been applied towards her by the company.

“It will not be used again, Miss Baggins,” Thorin assured her from his place across the fire. “Though I need to ask, orcs and goblins are known to have long memories so will you be in danger if we should encounter any while on this journey?”

“They hold no love for hobbits,” Hawthorn answered, remembering the encounter that had changed her life. “We do not have any family markings so they view hobbits as something to despise and typically will attack without cause if they find one of us out of the Shire.”

“Then we must be doubly cautious,” the dwarf lord said to his men, who nodded and continued on telling tales until it was time to rest.

The lass set her knitting away, climbing under one of the knit blankets and laying on the others as well as the bedroll and liner. She sighed, getting comfortable and feeling safe as she heard the sounds of the company moving around.

All in all, Hawthorn was glad she’d come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note - Ok, so the genealogy lined out to where Belladonna was the great granddaughter to the brother of Bullroarer or so the site said. I hope it’s right; if it isn’t, I apologize. I hope you all enjoyed this. Please let me know what you thought of the chapter! ~ Laran


	5. Campfire Discussions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – You guys are utterly amazing; all of you are so supportive of the story, and the reviews have been such an inspiration. I know I have other projects to write, but this story has been haunting me. I can’t seem to focus on anything but this tale. 
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

The next few days were interesting, and Hawthorn was using the time to get to know her companions while they rode towards Rivendell. All of them were nice in their own way, and she was quick to realize that the grumpy behavior was more of a protective barrier developed after their home had been taken. The lass didn’t take any grumbling personally and tried her best to help keep morale up.

The hardest part of the journey so far was trying to adapt to riding and sleeping on the ground. It had been at least two years since her last trip to Rivendell, and her old injury was protesting the change in routine. Hawthorn had found herself using her tonic more often than normal, and she sighed when she realized she was running low. There was still several weeks of travelling before reaching the elvish home.

The lass asked to borrow Bombur’s kettle, going to fill it up before setting it to boil. All eyes were on her since the evening meal was over, and it was a bit late for tea. Before they could ask her, she went back to the creek and washed out the last few vials.

“Lass, what are you doing,” Oin asked, catching the scent of medicinal herbs as she set up a strainer for her bowl.

“Preparing my tonic, Master Oin,” she answered. “This is a remedy Lord Elrond gave me after I received an injury that flares up.”

Since her head was bowed over the herbs she was pouring hot water over, Hawthorn didn’t see Thorin stop the questions by holding a hand up and shaking his head. He knew that she required this, and he didn’t want her pressured to explain her history until she was ready to do so.

Gandalf gave him a pleased nod, glad someone else was keeping Hawthorn’s well-being in mind. 

She filled her vials, stoppering them carefully and putting them away before taking the last dose of medicine. Once done, the hobbit washed and dried what she’d used and gave Bombur back his kettle, thanking him.

“You’re welcome, Miss Hawthorn,” the cook said, using the name the company had agreed on when she had begun protesting the constant use of her family name.

“You know a bit about herbs,” Oin asked, watching as she settled down to mend a tear in Gandalf’s cloak. The lass had noticed it earlier and had fussed at him until the wizard had surrendered the garment to her to be fixed.

“Not medicinally,” Hawthorn replied. “I grow the cooking ones since those are easiest to tend to and dry a good portion of them to use in the winter months.”

She had window gardens for her herbs since she couldn’t work in a normal garden for long and couldn’t afford to pay anyone to do the heavy work for her. It had been heartbreaking as she missed the gardens of Bag End, and it was also a financial burden when it came time to start stocking up for winter. Often times, her aunts would trade jarred vegetables for her dried herbs since the lass had a knack for them.

“Those have been an amazing addition for our meals,” Bombur said, making her give a tiny smile as she worked.

“I’m glad they’re of use,” Hawthorn commented, snipping the thread and handing Gandalf his cloak. “There you are, Mithrandir.”

The Istar smiled, checking it over. The needlework had been tiny and neat, and the tear in the cloak couldn’t be seen at all.

“Beautifully done as always, my dear,” he told her, chuckling when she demanded the scarf around his neck. He handed the item over, smiling as Dori piped up with a question.

“Can you do other kinds of needlework,” the tailor asked curiously. “So far, you’ve knitted or sewn but Ori mentioned you’d discussed other kinds of patterns earlier.”

“Like all hobbit lasses of the Took family, I was taught to sew, knit, crochet, tat, and embroider,” Hawthorn answered, then sighed. “Mithrandir, I will have to make you a new one. I’ve no idea how this one lasted so long. It should have fallen apart the first year you had it.”

“I did try to take care of it,” Gandalf said, laughing at her blush.

“You should’ve had Mother make you a better one after I gave this to you,” she retorted. “The stitches are all crooked, and there’s gaps where there shouldn’t be.”

“You made Mister Gandalf’s scarf,” Ori asked.

“I did; it was my first project, and I made it for him as a present for my birthday,” the lass said, shaking her head. “I was so proud of that thing, but it’s truly dreadful.”

With an embarrassed look on her face, Hawthorn handed the item in question to Ori to take a look at. The scarf was passed around with gentle hands, and all of them examined the item with great care.

“How old were you when you made this,” Nori asked, then blinked when her words finally sank in. “Did you say you gave it to him as a present on your birthday?”

“Hobbits don’t receive presents on their birthdays. I’m not certain when or where the tradition began, but I do know of a story that’s supposed to be the reason why we do such a thing,” she answered, stunning them. “We give them to the guests of our birthday parties. I was ten when I gave that to him. Truly, Mithrandir, will you let me make you a new one please?”

“Only so I can keep this one safe as it is very special to me,” the man told her, making her blush.

“This is well made, Miss Baggins,” Thorin commented, getting up to return Gandalf’s scarf to him. “For a first project at such a young age, this is better than most apprentices can do and the fact you made it for someone you care about makes it even more special. That is possibly why Tharkûn has kept it for so long.”

The dark haired dwarrow was treated to a shy smile, and he nodded in answer to her response.

“Thank you, Master Oakenshield,” she said, then turned her eyes to Gloin when he began to ask a question.

“What is tatting? I don’t think I’ve heard of that particular craft before,” the red haired dwarf asked.

“It’s a type of needlework that makes lace,” Hawthorn replied. “It’s one of the crafts handed down to every daughter of the Took line, and my mother taught me how to do it. One of the traditions of her family is that when the daughter is skilled enough, the mother will buy the best thread available and then sit down with her to draw out the pattern of lace the daughter will make to be preserved in her glory box until the time comes to use it.”

“What is the lace used for? It must be something important if you preserve it away instead of using it immediately,” Dori asked.

“A wedding veil or trimming for the wedding dress if the lass prefers not to use a veil. Some prefer not to have their heads covered by anything save a wedding wreath,” the hobbit replied, pulling her pack towards her so she could go through her yarn.

“Oh, I bet yours must be very lovely,” the tailor commented, looking stunned by her answer when she gave it to him.

“I never finished mine,” Hawthorn said to him, pulling out several small balls of yarn in blues and grays. “I think it’s still sitting in my glory box provided I haven’t thrown it out; I do know I have Mama’s pattern there. That was something I couldn’t bear to lose even if I’ll never use it. I also do some tatting to sell at the markets for money, but I’ve never done any kind of project for myself once I put the veil project away.”

At the warning look from their leader to change the subject, a discussion on crafts was started and they explained to the hobbit how they were chosen. When Gloin mentioned that his son was trying to reach a decision on his own, the lass looked up from the scarf she had gotten started on.

“That must have been difficult to do, Master Gloin, leaving your family behind,” she said. 

“I have my brother with me so it helps,” the red haired dwarf replied. “Traditionally, it’s why we travel with family if we can do so because it not only helps with missing our loved ones but also allows us to have someone with us that we trust implicitly in times of need.”

“Are all of you related,” the hobbit asked, looking down occasionally to check her knitting but keeping an eye on the others while she was given her answer.

“The answer to that question can be a bit confusing,” Thorin replied quietly. “Kili and Fili are the sons of my sister, and it took a bit of promising to keep an eye on them before she relented in allowing them to come along.”

“Eye on us, uncle? I seem to recall Mum making us swear to keep an eye on you,” Fili bantered back, ducking the swat from his uncle.

“Balin and Dwalin are brothers as are Gloin and Oin,” the king in exile continued once the company’s laughter died down. “Ori, Nori, and Dori are also brothers. All of them are my cousins. As for Bombur and Bofur, they are brothers and are also cousins to Bifur.”

“Are they related to you,” Hawthorn asked, not looking confused at all.

“No but I hold them equal to the others for answering when I called when my other kinsmen did not,” the blue eyed dwarf replied.

That brought looks of pride on the faces of the Ur brothers, and the lass gave the king another tiny smile.

“So, since we’re on the subject of family, is Gloin the only one married,” she asked, wanting to learn more about her companions.

“Bombur is and has four little ones,” Bofur said with a grin. “As for me, I’ve got my eye on someone but will wait to see how it goes. Bifur is unattached and hasn’t really seemed interested in changing that.”

“Some of us are courting,” Dori said with a kind smile. “Kili and Ori only recently came of age so they haven’t felt the urge to find their One just yet. I imagine that will occur in a few years once they settle into their majority.”

Hawthorne tilted her head at the phrase the silver haired dwarf had used, a bit confused by it.

“What do you mean when you say their One?”

“It’s a belief we have,” Balin explained. “When Mahal created the dwarrow, He sundered the soul into two parts. We spend our lives looking for our One, the one person who will complete us as our Father intended.”

“Like a soulmate,” she asked.

“Indeed, lassie,” he said with a nod. “Do hobbits hold a belief about soulmates?”

“My papa once told me that the Green Lady made it so we fall in love only once and that is only with the one She created for us,” the hobbit replied. “He said there’s always a scent that surrounds the soulmate to help the heart realize our cariad is there; it’s Yavanna’s gift to us so we have confirmation of our destined love. We court and spend time together and if the scent does not appear after a certain time, the courtship is politely ended and both look for prospective partners to try again. There have been instances where the signs of being each other’s cariads took weeks before emerging.

“Sometimes, the scent shows up during parties when dancing with someone or even talking. It’s how my parents knew they were meant to be. It was during the Midsummer Celebration; Mama had asked Papa to dance, and Yavanna showed them they were cariads. Papa always said Mama smelled like wild heather; she told me Papa always carried the scent of cinnamon.”

“That’s a bit different from how dwarrow recognize their Ones,” Dwalin commented.

“How do your people recognize their Ones, if I may ask?”

“We are carved from stone and can be rather thick-headed so our Father ensured we are able to recognize our Ones whenever they sing,” Thorin shared. “Singing comes from the heart and soul so if the one singing is our One, it causes our very being to vibrate like metal being struck by a mallet.”

“It’s a joyous occasion when it happens, but it’s not very comfortable. I thought someone had struck me in the chest when I heard my wife sing for the first time,” Bombur told her. “I managed to pull myself together though and sang in response so she would know we were meant to be.”

“That’s actually a romantic way to discover your soulmate even if it is uncomfortable for you,” Hawthorn said with a tiny smile. “I have no idea how humans or elves determine theirs, if they even have any. Up until now, I just knew about hobbit traditions for confirmation of your soulmate and courting traditions.”

Gloin and Bombur both shared a bit about their own courtships, making the lady with them give another small smile at the romantic tales they shared. Once they finished, she thanked them for sharing them with her, happy to know a little bit more about two of her comrades.

“So what about you, Miss Hawthorn?”

“What about me, Master Kili,” the lass questioned, eyes suddenly going back to the scarf she was working on.

“Is there a lad or lass you’ve been courting or had your eye on,” the young dwarf asked, not seeing her slender form stiffen.

“No, there is not,” she managed to get out, not looking up.

“Lovely lass like yourself, it doesn’t seem right that no one’s trying to win your heart,” the archer commented, making his uncle shake his head and give him a warning look.

“As you no doubt remember, Master Kili, my fellow hobbits are not fond of me and have not been since I entered my tweens,” Hawthorn answered, voice shaking as she continued. “No one has ever shown an interest in of forming any sort of relationship with me once I arrived at the age where it was appropriate to begin searching for a spouse, and I’ve never had an offer for courtship so I could find my cariad. Would you excuse me please?”

The hobbit dropped her handiwork onto her bag before getting up and walking away from the camp so she could get a handle on her emotions. She leaned her arms against a tree, resting her forehead against her arms as she struggled with the inner pain and disappointment. Despite her emotional turmoil, the lass heard the sound of footsteps and knew one of her dwarven companions had sought her out.

“You have the right to refuse to answer their questions, Miss Baggins,” a deep voice said quietly.

“I have no wish to appear rude, Master Oakenshield,” Hawthorn answered in a thick voice, trying to swallow back the tears of pain the questions had brought forward.

“They would not consider it rude,” the company’s leader told her. “Especially my sister-sons. There are times when neither of them seem to remember their boundaries and are reminded of it quite often when it happens.”

“Wisdom comes with age so they’ll understand in time,” she whispered, keeping her head against her arms. “I apologize for being so emotional back there; hobbits are not solitary creatures by nature, and it’s not been easy once I realized I’d never be able to take part in the events that are normal for lasses my age.”

“Tharkûn stated you will not be returning to the Shire once this quest has ended,” Thorin said softly. “Perhaps the right person will come along and see your value that the hobbits have blinded themselves to.”

“Most people would not be able to overlook the one flaw considered fatal to any potential relationship,” she whispered again. “As soon as they discovered it, none would consider asking me to become their wife. I will never find my cariad because of my incompleteness.”

The dwarf said nothing, waiting for her continue. He was the one his sister and nephews came to when troubled and though many did not know it, he could have patience when a heavy heart needed to be unburdened. Truth be told, Thorin was glad that most people didn’t know of it but tonight, he would listen to the lass who had opened her home even when she had little to share.

“On my first adventure, we were attacked by orcs,” the hobbit began, unknowingly speaking of a story the dwarf was partly aware of. “Mama and Mithrandir killed most of them, but one got through and went after me. I used a frying pan on it, but both of us wound up falling off of a small cliff. I was lucky because I didn’t break my neck, like it did, but my upper left leg and hip were broken in quite a few places. I’d also taken a dagger to my lower abdomen. The worst part was how I landed; the weapon and the fall damaged me internally. Lord Elrond was able to help to a point, but he could not fix everything.

“In the eyes of the hobbits, I came back half a woman as I cannot even claim to have the moon cycles the other females have nor can I ever have children.”

“Miss Baggins, not every male in Arda demands a wife who can give them children,” Thorin said gently. “My people are very aware of the issues our dwarrowdams have with conceiving. Some marriages are childless, but that does not mean the husbands do not love their wives any less than the husbands of families with children. 

“Do not close your mind to the possibility that someone will find your inner qualities to be more valuable to them than mithril and he will not care that you cannot have a child. All he will see is the value that makes a woman precious – a kind heart, gracious nature, and compassionate soul bound in strength.”

“Do such men even exist,” she asked, bringing her head up.

Thorin saw the tears in her eyes, which she wiped away with the back of her hand, and answered her truthfully. He didn’t like seeing her in such pain and hoped his words would help bring some form of comfort and relief.

“They do,” he said softly. “My brother, before he went on to the Halls of Mahal, found his One and was in love with a dwarrowdam who had been injured while fleeing Erebor. Like you, she had no monthly bleeding cycle and was unable to conceive. For Frerin, she was the most beautiful woman the Valar had ever created and had he lived, he would have completed the courtship and married her. There are more out there who value women properly, Miss Baggins, as you will discover for yourself in time.”

It took her a moment to collect herself, wiping away the tears before giving him that small smile.

“Thank you, Master Oakenshield,” Hawthorn told him, accepting his arm when he offered it.

“Shall we return, Miss Baggins?”

Once she had placed her hand in the crook of his arm, the dwarf lord guided her back to the camp and ensured she’d taken her seat before going back to his own.

“I’m sorry to be so nosy and upset you, Miss Hawthorn,” Kili said, looking unhappy that he’d done something to cause the hobbit to leave.

“You’re forgiven, Master Kili,” the hobbit answered, putting her handiwork away properly. “Would all of you mind terribly if I said goodnight? I’ve a bit of a headache, and sleep might help chase it away.”

The lass went to her bedroll after being assured that no one would protest, and she lay there for a while. The background noise was soothing but for some reason, Thorin’s words kept replaying themselves in her mind.

Eventually, Hawthorn fell asleep while pondering the dwarf king’s statements he had made while listening to her story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note - Cariad is Welsh for “love or sweetheart,” and I will use that for the word hobbits use for soulmate. I use quite a bit of that language for my “hobbitish” language because it feels more like what the hobbits would use. Any mistakes in that are mine to claim since I’m working off of translation sites and those only go so far! I hope you enjoyed the chapter. ~ Laran


	6. Discussing Hawthorn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – It’s rather funny seeing how many of you guessed what Hawthorn’s main problem was; I kept having to put you all off topic until the last chapter was posted because I didn’t want to spoil it. I felt a bit like River Song there for a while. Thank you all for your amazing support.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

Gandalf noticed his little friend’s distraction over the next few days and wondered at it. Hawthorn participated in conversations, listening to songs and stories with the occasional quiet giggle, but she seemed to be distant in a way that she usually wasn’t. Judging from the looks she was getting from some of the other members of the company, it seemed he wasn’t the only one who had noticed her overly quiet behavior.

Finally, worried about her, he volunteered to sit with the hobbit during first watch and once everyone was resting, the wizard was able to question her about it.

“I’ve been thinking over something Master Oakenshield said to me a few evenings ago,” Hawthorn said, then shared what had happened the other night.

The Istar listened to her explanation, silently thanking Thorin for his words because they had obviously given his dear friend some form of hope. Though he had to wonder at the blacksmith’s actions because he knew the dwarf was fairly quiet around others he didn’t know well, and Gandalf thought that perhaps it was due to how she’d opened her home to them. This would need to be watched, that was certain, because things weren’t quite adding up.

“I think, my dear, that he is correct in what he told you. Not all males are like those in the Shire,” he said to her. “You deserve a chance to be happy, and I’ll see to it you find a home where you will not just be comfortable but also as happy as your parents were. Who knows what could happen on this journey or after? Maybe you will cross paths with the one you are meant to be with, and you will find every bit of happiness you so richly deserve.”

“A small part of me wants to believe you and him, Mithrandir, but I’ve heard those horrible words from the others for so long now. I don’t know what to make of it,” she admitted to him, fingers twisting the fabric of her trousers. “What if he was just trying to be nice to me?”

“Thorin Oakenshield is a dwarf of his word,” Gandalf began. “He can be cold and hard to outsiders due to how his people have been treated, and I’ll be the first to admit that your ritual used to welcome him and his company into your smial really set him on his ear. From what I understand, no one has offered his people that kind of courtesy since losing the mountain. That gained you his attention and respect, and his respect deepened when he realized how little you had when you freely welcomed him and his dwarves into your home. This dwarf is not one to speak words of false comfort, Hawthorn, nor is he one to give respect easily.”

“I didn’t think so, not really,” she said, giving a tired sigh. “From what I’ve been able to see, he hasn’t stuck me as that kind of person. I’ve not heard him speak much, but I figured it was due to the fact he’s still trying to learn who I am before seeing if he can really trust me. Truth is, I don’t blame him for it considering what you’ve shared with me. I’m grateful for his compassion; he didn’t have to follow me out of the camp the other night. Everyone else would have left me to calm myself down on my own, but he made the attempt to comfort me. I’ve not had anyone do that since before Mama and Papa passed on to Yavanna’s Gardens.”

The actions of the dwarf lord had been surprising to the wizard as well, though he said nothing of that. He knew Thorin was fiercely protective of his family and watched over them. He’d seen him lending advice to his nephews, but that was due to the fact the dwarf was a father figure to the two younger ones. 

“In time, I believe you will find the one who will see you for who you are, Hawthorn, and you will find the love your parents wished for you to have. As I have said, you need to continue to have hope and it will happen.”

The hobbit lass said nothing in response to his words; instead, she went to Thorin’s bedroll to gently nudge him awake so he could take over as he had second watch that night. She retreated to her bedroll once he was awake and alert, dropping off to sleep fairly quickly.

The dwarf headed to where she had been sitting, noticing the wizard had not moved yet and figured the man had something to say before rousing the one scheduled to sit watch with the leader of Durin’s Folk.

“What is it, Tharkûn,” he asked, lighting his pipe while getting situated.

“Your kindness to Hawthorn the other night,” the Istar began. “Outside of her parents, myself, and the elves who have befriended her, no one has shown her such compassion since the day she was injured. She has been thinking on your words; I noticed her distraction while riding and questioned her on it.”

Thorin took a deep drag off of his pipe, blowing out the smoke slowly as he gathered his thoughts.

“You are questioning my actions towards her?”

“You are not exactly known for being welcoming towards strangers, Thorin, and your behavior is not quite what I would expect for having an outsider in your company. I view her as the granddaughter of my heart and will not see her come to harm,” the Istar said quietly

“I was set to dislike her,” the king-in-exile admitted. “However, she quickly put a halt to that when she greeted me and my people with that welcoming ritual. Ori did some questioning within my hearing; apparently, hobbits don’t use it much since it’s incredibly old and when they do, it’s for honored guests that are considered to be always welcome in their homes. She said it was another reason it wasn’t commonly used because it meant the people welcomed in the ritual would always have a home there, and it made many hobbits uncomfortable. Using that ritual meant we have a home with her, which is so much more than anyone has ever done for my people since the dragon stole Erebor from us. I have never been welcomed in such a genuine manner, and her gracious hospitality set her apart from those who have reluctantly hosted us. Add to that, the tea and bread she used were made by her hands. Gifting of crafts is important to us.

“The lass also offered to place herself between Lord Elrond and myself so that I might not have to ask for aid on the moon runes, and she did this because she knows of the rift between my kind and the elves.”

The dwarf lord trailed off for a moment, taking another deep breath of the pipe weed to help settle his thoughts.

“Miss Baggins, as poor as her financial circumstances were, did more for my people in that one night than others have since Erebor was lost to us. Despite being in pain, she has worked hard each day to help with the setting up and striking of camp as well as other chores. With all of her selfless actions, I find myself unwilling to dislike her and would not see her troubles discussed so freely in front of the others. Nor do I wish to see her in as much emotional turmoil as she was the other night. I simply could not allow her to carry those vile words in her heart and not have some form of hope given to her. Over the years, I have learned that hope is a fragile thing but necessary.”

“All I can say to that is thank you,” the wizard replied, staring into the fire for a moment. “It will take time for it to grow, but you have laid the seed for hope in her heart. Perhaps, in time, she will allow it to flourish and find that there is someone worthy of winning her love.”

The dwarf said nothing, and Gandalf rose to wake Nori for his turn at watch. The company’s leader watched as the wizard leaned against a tree beside the hobbit’s bedroll, eyes going distant as he rested.

Thorin was quiet but watchful as Nori sharpened his knives while keeping his own watch. He was contemplating a great many things, but he was alert enough to notice when the lass began to jerk in her sleep. Before he could move, there was a soft whine from her that brought Tharkûn out of his repose and had him leaning over to whisper in her ear. Whatever he did or said didn’t wake her, but it seemed to ease her out of her nightmare.

“She’s got a lot of heart for one so small,” Nori commented quietly as the Istar drifted back to sleep. “When you said Tharkûn was insisting on a hobbit for the lucky number, I honestly thought we were going to have trouble.”

“As did I,” the older dwarf answered in a voice equally soft. “Miss Baggins has proven to be full of surprises.”

“That she has,” the thief replied. “She’s endearing herself to everyone rather quickly. Did you know the lass even turned a prank around that was supposed to fall on Ori and your sister-sons fell right into it?”

“I didn’t think anyone could do that,” Thorin said, brows arching in surprise. “Is that why they came back from wood gathering with her and Ori soaking wet?”

“That’s the reason,” Nori snickered. “They were sneaking up on him to scare him, and she flanked them and did this imitation of Dwalin that startled them so badly. All it took was one light shove and both were in the creek.”

“She was actually able to imitate his voice,” he asked, startled. 

“Not perfectly, but she was able to imitate that gruff bark he does when he’s annoyed. It caught the lads off guard, and I can’t tell you how hilarious that was. They were absolutely stunned when they climbed out of the water and found Ori on his arse, laughing at them. The lass was just watching them with that little smile on her face,” the smaller dwarf replied, laughing quietly as he did so.

“It seems to me that the lads should be wary of pranking around Miss Baggins,” Thorin answered, hiding his laughter while shaking his head.

“I think they took it as a challenge and of course, Ori adores her for protecting him from the prank. She’s offered to teach him crocheting since some things can’t be done with knitting, and now Dori is pleased because she’s the first friend Ori has made that has helped him out of his shyness,” he shared. 

“It is good she is starting to be accepted by the others,” the monarch said quietly. 

Nori nodded, eyes going from blade to the darkness and back again to ensure the safety of the company. He was quiet for a short while before speaking up once more.

“I’ve heard talk amongst the company about her not going back to the Shire once we’re done with this quest,” the thief began. “There’s been discussions about her staying in Erebor or in Dale if we’re successful.”

“It’s true she is not returning to the Shire,” Thorin commented, expression darkening as he recalled the reason for her desire to leave the lands of her birth. “As far as where she will live once the quest is ended, that has yet to be discussed. Miss Baggins might want to live somewhere else and may not find the lands around Erebor to be to her liking. Regardless, we will help her find a new home where she’s accepted.”

The middle Ri brother nodded, focusing himself back on his task, and the future king of Erebor spent the rest of the watch deep in thought. He hadn’t expected to find that his company was already trying to find ways to keep the lass close to them once the quest was finished, but it didn’t surprise him.

Thorin’s thoughts varied from the hobbit lass to the quest, and he didn’t speak until it was time to wake Gloin for the third watch. As he settled himself into his bedroll, he caught sight of the lass and noticed she was finally sleeping peacefully. The dwarf drew in a slow breath and closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep. Tomorrow would be another long day, and he needed to be rested for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter. Please let me know what you thought of it. See everyone next time! ~ Laran


	7. Serious Discussions and Silly Banter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – I think everyone’s fairly pleased with the last chapter, and I am so glad to see it. The feedback has been exceptional, and I thank everyone for reading and sharing your thoughts on the story so far. Also too, I have 15 more days until my disability hearing so please keep me in your thoughts. I really need this to go through.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make money from this story.

The company made fairly good progress over the next few days, and Hawthorn slowly made friends with some of the dwarves. Her shyness didn’t help much, but most of the company were willing to help with that and pushed to get to know her. The fact that she helped out with the chores required for setting up or striking camp even when obviously hurting had earned respect from all of them. She never said a word about her discomfort, simply taking her herbal remedies before working on whatever task needed to be done, and the future king and the company respected her for that.

Thorin had noted, with some concern, that she was using the pain tonics often to combat the pain from the old injury. He’d overheard Tharkûn tell Oin that Elrond had a better one for her that would hopefully deal with the pain more efficiently as well as last longer. The healer had been concerned about the girl as well, and the king noticed that the older dwarf often kept an eye on her to ensure the lass didn’t overdo it. Outside of the limp that showed itself once she was off of her pony and the sight of the bottles she washed out after taking a dose, no one would have known she was in discomfort and that impressed him.

The journey went well, and they were making decent headway towards their destination. They stopped one night, and all of them were reminded that the pleasant trip was also fraught with danger. Some of them had drifted off to sleep, leaving a few awake with Kili and Fili on watch.

The hobbit was finishing up her scarf for Gandalf when the sound of screams and howling filled the air. Thorin went on alert at the same time as Hawthorn ensured her staff was within reach.

“I’ve not seen signs of them before making camp,” she said, voice drifting to the king. “It’s unsettling to be within hearing distance of them and not spot any sign of their presence nearby.”

“Nor have I,” he returned, giving his nephews a sharp glare as they tried to terrify Ori. “An orc raid in the night is not amusing; you two know nothing of the world.”

Hawthorn listened to Balin’s tale of the Battle of Moria, and she set her knitting aside once he had finished. She rose to her feet, wincing as her hip and upper leg throbbed in protest. Despite the pain, the lass made her way quietly to the king’s side.

“I’m sorry for the losses you have suffered over the years, Master Oakenshield,” she began softly. “I promise you that I will do all I can to make sure you and your people have a safe home where losses like this won’t happen again.”

It took Thorin several moments before he could find his words, touched by the promise she’d given him. She was proving herself to be as dedicated to ensuring his people had a home as he was in finding one for her as well.

“Thank you, Miss Baggins,” he said quietly. “Your dedication to this quest means a great deal to me. I’ve no wish to see more of my people returned to the stone.”

“We will have your home returned to you as soon as we can,” Hawthorn assured him. “We’ve got time between now and arriving there to come up with some sort of plan to destroy Smaug. From what I can see, you have a fair few intelligent minds who can devise a battle strategy for that. Once he’s handled, all you’ll have to worry about is repairing the damage he’s done and hope that he didn’t decide to relieve himself inside the mountain.”

As soon as she made that last comment, Hawthorn went a dark shade of pink and covered her mouth with a hand. Thorin was startled into chuckling; her words had been amusing, but it was her reaction to her own comment that had pushed him into laughter.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, embarrassed though her eyes showed a spark of pleasure at having made him laugh. “That was rather vulgar of me to mention that.”

“Of all the things I’ve had to think about regarding the restoration of Erebor, this is the first time the thought of cleaning up his excrement has entered my mind,” he deadpanned, amused by the pink cheeks and signs of embarrassment. 

“You were probably suppressing the idea of something so abhorrent and smelly,” she asked, still pink cheeked, and he started chuckling, taken aback by the silly wit.

“Quite possibly,” Thorin said, eyes sparkling with merriment. “I’m afraid I have no idea what to do now that you’ve put such a repugnant thought into my head.”

“Mine now too,” she squeaked. “I’m afraid to sleep tonight for I’m certain I’ll dream of smelly piles of dragon dung, and that is enough to ruin anyone’s hope for a restful night and somewhat even temper in the morning.”

Hawthorn was treated to a soft choking sound as he swallowed back the chuckle that threatened to emerge and felt pleased she’d managed to chase away the shadows that seemed to haunt his eyes. It was good to know that he did have a sense of humor, and she hoped she’d be able to help him whenever the memories threatened to overwhelm him.

The mirth disappeared when the screams and howls were heard again, and she shuddered against the memory of her own encounter with the vile beings. Thorin saw the slight tremble in her hand as she rubbed the heel of her palm against her hip and upper leg as if soothing away pain.

“We’ll put two on watch for each shift,” he said quietly. “I imagine you won’t find it easy to rest at the moment?”

“Not with this going on,” Hawthorn answered, knowing exactly what her dreams would be full of even if she had been able to sleep. “It would be unnerving for someone who hasn’t encountered their kind before and much worse for those who have.”

Thorin nodded, turning to the company and ordered them to bed as he set the watch for the rest of the night. Everyone took to their bedrolls while the hobbit grabbed her staff and took a seat next to where the dwarf lord would be sitting for his portion of the watch.

They passed about two hours in silence which was broken only by the snores of the company and the occasional screeching from the orcs. Both on watch could tell that the disgusting creatures were still far off, but they were moving as well. 

Shifting his weight, Thorin caught a glimpse of something blue gleaming on the hobbit’s lap and realized she had the dagger he’d gifted to her during his acceptance of her welcome back in the Shire. Her left hand was loosely clenched around the hilt of the sheathed weapon while her right did the same for the staff. Hawthorn caught his gaze and tilted her head slightly.

“From what Mithrandir has said, dwarves make everything that’s lovely useful,” she said. “I tested the blade, and the edge of it is incredibly keen. It’s well balanced too, not that I’d do that and risk the chance of losing this lovely dagger.”

“My brother was good when it came to forging weapons like that one,” he answered quietly.

“Your brother made this? Are you sure I ought to have it,” the hobbit asked, sliding her hand down on the sheath as if to hand it back.

“You should be the one to carry it now,” Thorin answered. “I carried it with me since he gave it to me, but I’ve never used it. The hilt is too small for my hands, and it’s a gift that was given to you as per the traditions of my people. We always give a gift that is both useful and created by one of our own. This way our hand and Mahal’s shelter you for the hospitality you have shown us.”

“It’s a beautiful tradition,” she began softly. “I’m not certain that I should have something that your brother gave to you.”

“He’d have agreed with my choice in gifting it,” Thorin assured her. “He hated that our people are treated so badly, and your actions would have amazed and humbled him. You proved to all of us that there was still one person in Arda who would not turn away someone in need, even though hosting us put a burden on you.”

“It didn’t matter if all I had to give you was potato soup, I still would have done the same thing,” Hawthorn said to him.

“Which is why you have found friends within the company and why my brother would have insisted on you keeping that dagger,” he replied. “You welcomed us and meant it.”

“No matter where I end up in the future once this quest is completed and Erebor is yours again, this company and the dwarves of Durin’s Folk will always find sanctuary beneath my roof,” the hobbit promised, remembering the term Ori had used to describe the people Thorin ruled.

“Thank you, Miss Baggins,” Thorin solemnly answered. “That means a great deal to all of us, and you will be given the same courtesy. Erebor will always be open to you.”

The hobbit lass gave him a small smile, making him realize that he and the others had not seen an unrestrained smile from her before. He could recall Tharkûn mentioning how she was always laughing, smiling, and singing as a child, but he’d not seen any signs of that since meeting her.

“Thank you, Master Thorin,” Hawthorn replied politely in a voice that showed she was deeply grateful for his words. “I hope to take you up on that invitation so I can not only visit with all of you but see how the mountain starts blooming once the restoration is underway. I have no idea if I would have any skills that might help at all, but I’m willing to try.”

A thought occurred to him when he heard the wistful tone in her voice that showed that she was eager to help, and he had a feeling he knew exactly what she could aid in.

“Actually, there might be a few tasks we’ll need your specific skills for,” Thorin began. “At first, until the dwarrow in Ered Luin relocate to Erebor, Ori will be the only scribe in the mountain as Balin will be too busy to take on those responsibilities. He’ll need help with all of the documentation as well as requiring assistance in restoring the library once it’s reopened. I have no idea how long you would wish to remain within Erebor but when you are ready to leave our halls, we’ll see to it you have a home you are comfortable and happy in.”

Her eyes took on a look of hope as blue eyes met blue and held. 

“I would be happy to remain in the mountain to help for as long as you need me,” the hobbit lass said softly. 

“From what I recall of the library, you’ll be stuck in Erebor for a good while. I have no doubt there will be quite a few books, scrolls, and maps in need of restoration as well as interpretation from Sindarin into Westron,” the dwarf lord informed her. “I know Ori will be living in that room if his brothers don’t pull him out for food, sleep, and socialization every so often.”

“Hazards of being a scribe and loving what you do,” she answered with another tiny smile. “I’ve been known to forget to eat whenever I’m involved with a book that has a lot of fascinating information. During my visits to Imladris, Lord Elrond would often have to send his daughter or sons to retrieve me at mealtimes. I’m rather notorious for forgetting the passing of time when I’m in a library, and Erestor is the same so he can’t keep an eye on me to make sure I eat properly.”

“I’ll have Ori’s brothers pull you out as well,” he said in a deadpan tone that was partially teasing. “No need to allow our hobbit to waste away on us.”

That comment seemed to catch her off guard, and Thorin quickly remembered that no one had kept an eye on the lass since the death of her parents and subsequent abandonment by most of her extended family. It made something in his chest ache at that realization since he knew that he and his sister had each other and the lads after losing so many family members. Their presence had been a comfort to him, and he had no doubt it had been the same for Dis. The dwarf lord couldn’t even imagine not having them with him, and it made him appreciate the hobbit’s inner strength.

“Thank you,” Hawthorn said quietly, not making any further conversation when it became apparent that the dwarf was deep in his thoughts. 

She remained quiet for the rest of the watch, thinking about various things and how nice it had been to be able to tease and enjoy it. Hawthorn couldn’t remember the last time she’d been a part of that kind of camaraderie, and she hoped that she would be able to do so again. The dwarf was intimidating, but he was showing a softer, playful side to his personality. It was something she hoped and wanted to see again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note - While looking over a clip in Rivendell, I noticed Thorin standing near the company’s table about the time Bofur starts singing. Yes, he was enjoying the music and showing signs of a bit of merriment so I think it’s possible others can make him laugh. I liked the idea of silly banter to try to relieve fear, and I hope you do too! Try not to dream of piles of dragon poop! See you next time, Laran.


	8. The First in A Series of Problematic Events

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – Thank you all for the amazing reviews and responses to this story so far. You are utterly amazing, all of you! I hope you continue enjoying this; things are going to be moving a bit in regards to character and plot. 
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

A little more than two weeks had passed since the night they’d heard the orcs, and it was obvious to anyone within the group that the company had become rather fond of the hobbit. They were always quick to share stories or simply converse with her in order to pass time, and she shared what she could. A lot of the time, Hawthorn was a bit too shy to share too much but occasionally, she could be persuaded to share stories or poetry that she’d written over the years.

The hobbit had started to get to know all of the dwarrow, showing remarkable patience and cunning when dealing with Thorin’s sister-sons whenever they tried to prank her as well as sitting through Gloin’s numerous stories about his family. She often sat with Ori, teaching him to crochet in exchange for a few dwarvish knitting patterns that he had shared with her, and the lass would encourage him to speak out whenever the two mischief makers tried to focus their pranks on the scribe. The hobbit didn’t realize it, but she’d earned the loyalty of the scribe’s two brothers for what she was doing with their younger sibling.

More and more of her traits were shown and accepted, but her bravery and selflessness became apparent about a week’s distance from Rivendell.

The company had stopped to make camp and once everything had been set up, Nori and Fili were trying to help Ori learn a bit more regarding knife throwing. Since Hawthorn was busy helping Bombur with supper and wouldn’t be able to crochet with the scribe just then, the two dwarrow had been more than happy to help give Ori more ways to defend himself.

Thorin was jerked to full attention to the actions of the company, pulling him away from his conversation with Balin and Dwalin, when he heard a female voice cry out a warning after an explosive sounding sneeze echoed across the clearing. He looked up in time to see a small form hurtling herself at Oin, knocking the healer off of his feet and out of the way of a badly thrown dagger.

Cries of the healer’s and hobbit’s names were heard as everyone hurried to where the pair were, wanting to ensure neither of them had been injured.

“What happened,” the dwarf lord asked, spotting the dagger buried deep in the tree where Oin’s head would have been had the lass not intervened.

“Kili startled Ori by sneezing just as the lad started to let go of the dagger, and it threw his aim off,” Nori answered, trying to reassure his brother that this hadn’t been his fault.

Thorin watched as Gloin got his brother to his feet, patting him down to ensure nothing was harmed before resting his forehead against the older dwarf’s. The heir of Durin could appreciate just how rattled his cousins must be, and he turned his attention to the hobbit. He turned in time to see Bofur and Dwalin help the lass to her feet, and he spotted the flash of pain that crossed her face when she tried to put weight onto her left leg.

“Miss Baggins, are you injured,” the blue eyed dwarf asked as his cousin and the toymaker helped her to a log.

“I twisted something,” the female answered, looking pale as she sank onto the seat she’d been escorted to. “Is Master Oin all right?”

“Thanks to you, lassie, he is just fine,” Gloin answered, walking with his brother to stand in front of her. 

“I’m just glad I spotted it happening before he could get hurt,” Hawthorn said to him, blinking when Oin knelt to examine the leg that was giving her problems.

The company backed away to give the two privacy, and Thorin looked over at Ori and Kili. Given how frightened the pair looked, he knew they needed reassurance. Sneezing couldn’t be helped, and the scribe was still so inexperienced in regards to fighting. The lad needed to learn more, and the blacksmith didn’t want him discouraged or too frightened to continue learning.

“I do not hold either of you to blame; however, I would appreciate it if you held any training that involves throwing or archery further away from camp,” the lord told the group.

“We will,” Fili agreed, rubbing his brother’s shoulder for a moment to help comfort him. “How are Oin and Miss Hawthorn?”

“Our cousin will be all right; I’m sure he was rattled by being thrown to the ground by the hobbit but took no injury. He’s examining Miss Baggins now; I believe her old injury is flaring up due to the joint being twisted.”

Thorin nodded to the group, heading towards his cousins when Gloin gestured for him to come and hear the report. He was brewing a cup of something for Oin, and the king-in-exile turned to the elder cousin to find out what had happened to Hawthorn.

“Miss Baggins will be all right in a few days,” the healer assured the listeners. “She twisted her hip joint, which happened to be part of an old injury, and she’ll need to stay off of it as much as she can for the next two days. I recommend she ride with someone in a sidesaddle position with the right amount of cushioning to keep her hip steady. Riding astride on her own will cause the injury to remain painful and swollen.”

“It’s not necessary,” Hawthorn stated, trying to insist that she could carry her own weight and not be a burden to anyone. 

“You’ll find it is, Miss Hawthorn,” Gloin rebutted as he handed her a warm tonic. 

“My brother is right,” the healer added. “Drink that tonic now; it’ll help bring the swelling down and won’t interfere with the pain remedy the elf gave you. Until I tell you otherwise, you’re to stay off that leg. Understand, lassie?”

“You will not become a burden because of the injury, Miss Baggins, so do not worry about that. My family owes you a debt for saving our cousin, and I would never speak against you for needing to remain still due to an injury you received while saving his life,” Thorin told her when it looked as if she would argue against Oin’s words.

Hawthorn sighed, looking at the three dwarrow standing in front of her. She’d done it to keep the kind dwarf from being hurt; he’d kept an eye on her whenever he realized she was in pain, and she hadn’t wanted to see anything bad happen to Oin. It seemed she had no choice but to accept their orders for now.

“As you wish,” she replied quietly, downing the tonic and making a sound at the bitter taste of the medicine.

Once she had finished, Oin handed the cup to Bombur to be taken care of with the dinner dishes and then dragged his brother away to have a long chat with him.

“Is Ori all right,” the hobbit asked, drawing Thorin from his thoughts.

“He’s shaken, but I think he will be just fine once he realizes that it was an accident. Kili sneezed at the wrong time and startled him,” the dwarf lord informed her. “Both are taking it a bit hard at the moment.”

“Would my saying anything to them help ease their distress,” she asked, hoping to keep the pair from feeling guilty.

“It might at that,” he replied, getting up to retrieve the pair in question.

Within a few moments, Hawthorn had both Ori and Kili standing in front of her. Nori and Fili were close beside them, looking anxious as well. She spoke before any of them could, sharing what was on their minds.

“No one is angry with you,” the lass reassured them. “Sneezes are annoying at times when they spring up on you, but it’s not something that can be controlled. No one was badly hurt, thank the Valar, and none of you should carry any form of guilt for what happened.”

It took a short while, but the hobbit did eventually get them to relax and stop feeling so guilty for what had happened. Once that had been handled, the younger ones headed back to their practice and Hawthorn gave a soft sigh. She felt better knowing she’d managed to alleviate their concerns and resolved to hide how much her leg was bothering her. This was a pain she was used to and could manage to keep that burden off of the young ones as possible.

Once dinner had been eaten and Bofur collected the plates for cleaning, Oin had prepared another tonic for her and then he and Gandalf had aided to her to the latrine so she could handle her business. It was a bit embarrassing, but the hobbit kept quiet on that since she knew both males simply wanted to make things easier until the injury healed up.

Thanks to Oin’s tonic, Hawthorn was able to sleep the night through with only a few times where the pain of her injury would disturb her. The medication had allowed her to fall right back to sleep, but the only problem was how groggy it had left her when she woke the next morning.

Thorin noticed how quiet and slow the lass was after Oin and Gandalf had brought her back to camp once she’d finished readying herself for the day, and he realized the medicine his cousin had given her was still lingering. He knew from personal experience how strong the healer’s remedies could be, and he’d also seen the look of pain on her face when she’d stirred during his watch.

“Oin,” he called out as the group began striking camp while Bombur fixed breakfast. 

The healer headed to the king, sitting beside him with his better ear angled towards him.

“How is Miss Baggins this morning,” Thorin asked. “She seems rather slow to come fully awake.”

Oin nodded, noticing the lass tucking her hair pins safely into her pack. Obviously, she was too groggy to have any form of dexterity this morning and had simply combed out her hair before tying it back with a strip of leather.

“The tonic seemed to help her last night or so she said,” the healer began.

“She stirred twice during my watch,” the dark haired dwarf informed him. “It was obvious she was hurting, but the tonic you gave her pulled her back into sleep before it could fully wake her.”

“I’m glad to hear it worked,” Oin commented. “The swelling is larger than I’d like it to be, and I can tell her pain levels are too high.”

“My only concern is if we are attacked during the night,” Thorin said softly, not liking what he was about to bring up and knowing it was necessary for everyone’s safety. “The lass will have a difficult time as it is with her leg and hip injured, but the medicine will ensure she will not wake in time. I have no wish for her to remain in discomfort, but I would not see her lose her life due to being slow to wake.”

“Thorin, if she does not sleep, she will be slower to heal. Instead of it taking two days, it could take a week,” the older dwarf replied, warning him of that possibility. “I can cut back on the strength of the tonic, but she’ll need to rest during the day while riding with someone. I’ll speak with her on it once she’s alert and also have a chat with Tharkûn about it as well.”

“Surely there is something he can do about her pain,” the dwarf lord asked, frowning when the healer shook his head.

“I asked him that last night, and he said that her leg and hip had already been exposed to a lot of magical healing in the past. Apparently, there’s only so much magic a body can take and he doesn’t want to run the risk of healing something minor then not being able to help her should that area break again. Miss Hawthorn agreed so I think she’s heard this lecture before,” Oin informed him.

Thorin nodded, contemplating what to do with the injured hobbit before reaching a decision.

“We will rotate who Miss Baggins rides with,” the king in exile began. “She’ll ride for an hour or two before switching to another dwarf. It will make it more comfortable for them and for her. The only exception will be Kili.”

“Aye, best not hinder our distance fighter if we’re attacked while she is with him,” the healer agreed, getting up when Bombur called out that breakfast was ready.

Once the meal was eaten and everything cleaned up and packed away, Thorin shared the plan regarding Miss Baggins and her need to ride with someone until the injury healed. Kili understood, and he was rather proud of his sister-son for not needing an explanation as to why the lass would not be riding with him.

Thorin mounted his pony, getting settled before helping position Miss Baggins. Dwalin and Dori got the lass situated in front of him, using a blanket to help provide some stability due to way the saddle was made. Once she was settled, she was leaning against his chest with her head against his shoulder. He had an arm around her to keep her balanced, ignoring the blush on the hobbit’s face.

“All right, Miss Baggins?”

“I’m all right, Master Thorin,” she answered, sounding a little more alert than she had been earlier. “I apologize for this.”

“No need to apologize,” he said quietly. “You were injured saving the life of a companion; that means a great deal to dwarrow.”

“It still feels as if I am inconveniencing everyone,” the hobbit responded, blinking at the stern look he gave her.

“Miss Baggins, you saved my cousin’s life and there is little I would not do to ensure you healed properly and with what comfort we can provide. Helping you by having you ride with me is no inconvenience.”

“If you say so,” she replied, blushing as she did so.

“I do,” he informed her, watching as the others mounted their ponies and giving the order to move out.

They were quiet for a while before she broke the silence, hoping he wouldn’t mind the question.

“Have you given thought as how to we are going to make it through Thranduil’s realm,” the lass asked, sounding worried.

“At the moment, I have not. I believe we should take the quickest path through the woods and hope we do not run into any patrols,” Thorin commented, a bit surprised by her question. “I would rather find another route, but the paths circumventing the elven realm would add weeks if not longer to our journey.”

“The last time I was in Imladris, I overheard Erestor talking to Elladan and Elrohir. Those are Lord Elrond’s twin sons,” Hawthorn informed him before continuing. “This was about two years or so ago, and I heard them discussing how dark the woods had become. There are foul things encroaching on what was once known as the Green Wood. From what I heard, Elladan said that men are now calling it Mirkwood.

“I guess we’ll need to find any fresh news of it when in Imladris, but I can question Erestor or Glorfindel, if he’s in the mood to give me answers and not riddles,” the lass said. “Avoiding the elves will be more difficult as they patrol their lands regularly and never in a pattern that is recognizable. Glorfindel once told me that it made it more difficult for evil to avoid them when trying to sneak into their lands.”

“Which means we shall have difficulty avoiding the patrols of the elvish king as the guards will be moving more frequently if the news of this infestation is true,” the dwarf commented, sounding unhappy.

“When we are in Imladris, I will go to the library and see if Erestor has any recent maps of Mirkwood. I’ll make a copy for us to use; at least we will have less of a chance of getting lost if we have some form of guidance,” Hawthorn offered.

“Ori can assist you in the research,” Thorin told her. “Any news of what we will find once we clear the Misty Mountains will be of use to us.”

“I’ll make the necessary introductions as soon as we’re clean and Lord Elrond has seen me,” the hobbit said, shaking her head. “He’ll insist on my going into the Halls of Healing as soon as we arrive.”

“Does he do that often?”

“Every time I visit Imladris,” she answered dryly. “He and Mithrandir both are very protective when it comes to my health. In truth, I am grateful for it.”

Which meant she had a familial tie in some way to the elf lord and wouldn’t that make things interesting? Thorin hoped it wouldn’t mean there would be trouble once Elrond realized what the company was planning to do; he would have to ensure that the group stayed together so as not to be caught off guard if they needed to leave in a hurry.

“There will be a strong chance the elf lord will not approve of the quest,” Thorin began. “He will do everything he can to stop us once he realizes what we are about to do.”

“I might be able to persuade him to at least not hinder us,” Hawthorn replied. “If not, I know of an exit that will lead us towards the Misty Mountains. Resupplying might not be an issue since the kitchen staff is used to seeing me in their area quite often. With some help, I can sneak out what we’ll need to feed the company.”

“If it comes to that, let me know. I’ll have Nori assist you there since he is good at removing items from certain locations without being caught,” he informed her.

She nodded, silent for a moment as she contemplated the potential issues they might face while in Rivendell. He was quiet as well, still somewhat taken aback by her willingness to put herself between them and the elves to discover what they needed to know. 

“Why are you so willing to speak to the elves for us,” he asked, finally breaking his own silence.

“Though the elves of Mirkwood were the ones to cause so much harm by not aiding your people, I can understand the reluctance you and your people might have when interacting with other elves. Lord Elrond is a wise and generous host, kind in his own way, but I am also aware that he and the other elves can be caught up in the feud that developed after the friendship between dwarves and elves unraveled.

“You and the company will not feel at peace or welcome in Imladris because of the animosity that followed the dissolution of the friendship as well as what the elf king of Mirkwood did. There is already so much worry and strain upon you, and I have no wish to add more so I am willing to speak with whoever I must in order to gain the information we need to ensure this quest is successful.”

Startled by her words, Thorin looked down to see her cheeks take on a rosy hue for a long moment and to see the sincerity in her eyes as he met them. All of this caused something in his chest to tighten for several long moments before she looked away, blushing a bit more.

“I am grateful, Miss Baggins,” he told her, seeing the blush darken.

“You and your people deserve a home,” she answered in a sincere tone. “I mean to do all I can to see to it that you reclaim yours.”

How in Mahal’s name was he to answer that one, Thorin thought to himself as he pulled the pony to a stop and waited as Oin and Gloin helped move the lass to Fili’s pony. The hobbit lass was surprising him more often each time he spoke with her, and the dwarf lord was at a loss as to how to interact with her now.

Hawthorn Baggins was proving herself to be a very unique and genuine person, and Thorin knew just how rare people like her were. He wasn’t sure how to handle himself around her since she seemed to disarm him every time they spoke, and he wasn’t certain how to feel about this either.

The sound of Gloin calling his name drew him away from his thoughts to find his two cousins waiting beside him.

“Are we ready to continue,” Thorin asked, blinking when the red headed dwarf answered.

“Aye, we are and my brother and I need to talk with you,” Gloin began, making the dark haired dwarf hide his groan.

What in Mahal’s name could be going on now?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note - I hope you enjoyed it! Poor Thorin will be going through a series of problematic events for the next few chapters, but I think you’ll agree each one is necessary! Thanks for reading and please, let me know what you thought of the chapter! ~ Laran


	9. The Second in a Series of Problematic Events

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – You guys are amazing! I can’t say that enough. Ok, so here’s the chapter and I do hope you enjoy it. This week is going to be rough for me because I have my disability hearing on Friday. Please keep me in your thoughts!
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story! The song used in this story is “Evening Falls” and is owned by Enya. I don’t own or make money from the song; I’m simply borrowing it!

Once the company was moving again, Thorin turned his attention back to his cousins. Both of them looked serious but not in the grumpy way he was used to seeing from the pair. He was curious about what was on their minds and hoped it would not be something that could cause trouble.

“What is it you wished to speak to me about,” the dwarf lord asked, keeping his attention divided between the pair and their surroundings.

“Miss Hawthorn actually,” Oin began, voice low for once. “My brother and I owe her a great debt for her selfless actions, and we would like to do something for her so that we can to honor her for her deed.”

“Do you two have an idea what you wish to do,” Thorin asked, signing in iglishmêk at the same time so his older cousin would not have to miss out on the conversation.

“We do,” the healer replied. “My brother and I have been discussing it since last night, and we have come to a decision but will need your thoughts on it, cousin.”

“I am willing to listen,” he answered formally, realizing that this was a formal petition in a way and would ensure he answered in kind.

“I wish to adopt the lass and take her as my daughter,” Oin told him, sincerity in his voice. “I have no children of my own, and she proved her loyalty and courage by putting herself in harm’s way to keep me from serious injury or death. I wish to protect her as she has done for me by bringing her into the family and giving her the love and kindness she needs and deserves. She has been alone for far too long, and I mean to see to it that her isolation is ended.”

“Gloin, what are your thoughts on this,” Thorin asked, still signing at the same time.

“I agree with my brother,” the younger son of Groin answered, signing as well so he wouldn’t have to shout his answer. “Her parents are gone and most of her family and people wish to have nothing to do with her, which is foolish in my mind. The lass has proven herself to be as priceless as mithril and if those damned hobbits refuse to see her as such, then I say their loss is our gain. I would be honored to call her my brother-daughter.”

“There may be consequences to your actions,” he reminded them. “And while she has indicated a desire to stay in Erebor for a while and help us rebuild, Miss Baggins has shown no signs of wanting to make a home within our mountain. She might not wish to remain with us once she feels we have all the assistance we require.”

“I won’t force her to stay,” the healer told him. “However, I will make sure she knows that she’ll always have a home with her new family if she so chooses to allow this adoption.”

“As for the consequences, by the time this quest is over, no one will have a right to protest over anything she has been given due to her actions and being a member of the company,” Gloin shared. “She came when none of our kin or fellow dwarrow would, and she opened her home to us when it was painfully obvious she didn’t have much to share. The lass is one of us, and I’ll not hear anyone say different once Erebor is ours again and our people are home.”

“You have my permission to ask her,” Thorin told them both. “If she accepts, then may Mahal’s blessings and protections be upon your family.”

“Thank you, cousin,” Oin answered. “We’ll ask her tonight once we make camp.”

Thorin nodded, pleased that the discussion had gone well. He hoped she would accept the adoption offer; Oin had never found his One, and the dwarf lord had a feeling the hobbit lass would help fill the ache of not having children. Something told him that the healer would be good for her as well; Oin was right, the hobbit had been alone for far too long. 

The rest of the day passed swiftly enough, without any complications, and everyone was happy to set up camp. Hawthorn’s bedroll had been up near the fire so the lass could stay warm; cold would not be kind to her injury, and Bofur had ensured she’d be placed so that the leg would not be painful due to the night’s chill.

Since she’d been denied the opportunity to help set up their camp for the night, the hobbit dug something out of her bag and focused on a small book she carried, writing with care not to smudge the ink. Once she was finished, she put her writing equipment away and let the page remain exposed so it would dry quickly.

“Miss Hawthorne, may we have a moment of your time?”

Hawthorne looked up, spotting the two dwarrow standing by her bedroll. She blinked, a little surprised, but nodded.

Oin and Gloin both took a seat beside her, and the elder brother spoke first.

“Gloin and I have been talking, and there is something very important we want to discuss with you. You have impressed us greatly with your generosity, kindness, strength, and bravery. Saving my life helped us focus further on you, seeing you as you truly are, and both of us have reached an agreement.”

The hobbit sat up straighter, hiding a wince as her legged throbbed in protest of the movement.

“An agreement?”

Oin nodded, speaking once again. He was a bit nervous but determined because his heart was telling him this was the right thing to do.

“I, Oin, son of Groin, wish to take you, Hawthorn Baggins, into my heart and home as my daughter and heiress. Mahal has brought the two of us together, and I feel that it is His will to bring you into my family.”

“You wish to adopt me,” she asked, noticing Gloin’s hands moving and realizing he was helping his brother with the discussion since she knew the older dwarf was somewhat hard of hearing.

“I do, lass. I honor the gifts your parents granted you and wish to add to them, becoming your father so that I can continue to love and protect you as they would have if they had not moved on to Yavanna’s Gardens. I am not doing this to replace them but to continue giving you what you deserve, a family.”

“I will also add to the love and protection,” Gloin interjected, still signing in case Oin couldn’t catch his words even with his trumpet. “I will be your uncle, and you would also gain an aunt and cousin through this adoption. I know Gimli and Freyis will adore you.”

Tears filled her blue eyes, making them gleam in the firelight as she gave voice to one concern she held deep in her heart.

“You speak of making me your heiress, but I cannot continue your line and name. When I fell and injured my leg and hip, I also had internal damage from the fall as well as being stabbed in the lower abdomen. I can’t have children,” she whispered, confiding in the pair of them.

Both dwarrow froze at her words, putting a few facts together, and Gloin growled deeply. He kept his voice low and signs hidden from the Company so as not to break the confidence she had just shared with them.

“Is that why you are shunned by your fellow hobbits, lass?”

“Family is important in the Shire,” she answered the younger brother in a small voice. “Fertility in hobbits and in nature is considered a vital thing, a blessing from Yavanna. Anyone who isn’t fertile, which is incredibly rare, is treated as I have been. It was worse because the others said that my infertility was because I inherited my mother’s love for adventures, and that I am being punished for being unnatural.”

“They blamed you for your injuries when a goblin was the cause,” Oin asked, throat tight with rage and compassion.

“From the moment I returned from Imladris, the others began calling me halfling when my parents’ backs were turned. I’m viewed as half a hobbit and an offense against nature because I’m unable to have fauntlings. Even the Baggins family felt that way, evicting me from Bag End after my parents died. If it weren’t for my mother’s family, I would have been homeless,” she answered, fingers worrying the hem of her sleeves.

“They threw you out because you couldn’t forge bairns? That was your home,” the older brother protested, keeping quiet somehow.

“Bag End and Papa’s legacy needed to be given to someone who can carry on the Baggins name. In their eyes, I had no right to claim the smial or things that belonged to the Baggins family. I was allowed to keep the name because Grandfather Took stated it would dishonor my father by casting me out officially,” Hawthorn replied. “The Baggins family were glad to see me gone, said I was worthless and a disgrace to my father. My mother’s father didn’t see it that way and ensured I had a place to live; my uncles try to help where they can, but I spend a lot of time alone in my smial.”

“So not all of the Tooks were willing to stand beside you,” Gloin asked.

“No, not all of them. They’ll say they will help where they can, but I know some of them won’t ensure I’m given full market value for things I make.”

“I’m glad you’re leaving the Shire, lass,” Oin told her. “You deserve better; it’s not a woman’s fault when her body can’t forge bairns. You would think other races understood this too, but you’re among those who understand that fertility isn’t always a given. As far as continuing my line, Hawthorn, I have a feeling you might find a child who needs a home. Passing down our blood in that manner is good enough for me.”

“Adoption can never be broken,” the younger dwarf informed her. “No matter what happens, an adopted child can’t be disinherited. When that bond is forged, Mahal ensures it is made stronger than mithril.”

“Are you sure,” she asked, eyes wide as she looked into Oin’s.

“I am,” he answered, smiling when she gave her answer.

“Then I accept,” Hawthorn told him, feeling nervous and happy at the same time.

Gloin gave an excited whoop, drawing the attention of the Company. All eyes turned towards them, and Oin began the rite for the adoption.

“Your Majesty, I come to you with a petition,” the healer began.

Thorin straightened up where he was sitting, leaning against a tree. His eyes focused on Oin, voice firm as he answered.

“I will hear your petition, Oin, son of Groin.”

“I wish to adopt Hawthorn Baggins into my line,” he said, causing the other dwarrow to smile.

Gandalf watched the proceedings with a keen eye, glad to see that the child he loved as a granddaughter was finally being given a family she so richly deserved. He knew how dwarrow treated everyone in their family, loving them and protecting them with a ferocity that matched a dragon sitting on its hoard. This was an adoption he was happy to observe.

“Will you love and protect her? Teach her the ways of the family and guide her as she continues on this life Mahal and Yavanna have granted her,” the dark haired dwarf asked.

“I will love and protect her as a father should,” Oin answered. “I will teach her the ways of our family and be the guide she will need.”

Thorin climbed to his feet, walking towards them. Once beside them, he sank to a knee and pulled a dagger from his belt. Gently, he took Hawthorn’s right hand and quickly drew blood before doing the same to Oin’s own right hand.

Oin placed their palms together, and the king-in-exile held the two hands in between his own and began to speak in Khuzdul. His voice took on a melodic sound, chanting in a way that was like music to the hobbit.

Hawthorn wasn’t sure what was going on, but she felt her hand grow hot against Oin’s while the dark haired dwarf spoke. She met the dwarf’s eyes, taking strength from the encouragement she found there. 

Thorin ended the chant, letting go of their hands and watching as Gloin unbound the lass’s hair. Oin separated a thick lock and began to weave a braid, securing it with a clasp that marked Hawthorn as a daughter of Durin’s line and the child of Oin, son of Groin.

“It is done,” the king-in-exile stated. “Welcome to the family, Hawthorn, daughter of Oin and Bungo.”

Oin gently pressed his forehead to his new daughter’s forehead as the Company cheered. A new child was always something to celebrate, and the dwarrow that followed Thorin were ready to do just that.

Food was passed around and devoured while stories were shared, all of them happy tales of mischief and sharing good memories. Thorin finished his meal, passing his bowl to Fili since his sister-son had clean up duty that evening.

When the eating and clean up had finished, Bofur had started singing and soon, everyone was sharing songs they enjoyed. Even Thorin had been convinced to sing a cheerful song his mother had written when he was a child, and the memory was one he was content to remember.

“Miss Hawthorn, do you sing?”

“She does, Master Kili,” Gandalf answered before the hobbit could. “She has been blessed with the gift for music, both in singing and creating songs.”

“Could you share one of your songs with us,” Ori asked, making the hobbit feel a bit uncomfortable.

“Please do, Hawthorn. It has been years since I’ve heard you sing, and I have missed it a great deal,” the wizard pressed.

Hawthorn sighed, chewing her lower lip for a moment. She’d stopped singing after returning to the Shire to find herself shunned and blamed for something that had been out of her control. Though she still wrote songs, the lass had not felt the urge to sing for a long time. 

“I haven’t sung in years,” she admitted, unable to withstand the pleading from most of the members of the company. “I’ll try, but please excuse any mistakes in pitch. I’m horribly out of practice.”

She pulled her small book out, flipping it to the last entry she’d written. The song had been written with these dwarrow in mind, and it felt like the right time to share it since Mithrandir was determined to hear her sing again.

“I just wrote this one today,” she admitted, noticing she had everyone’s attention and blushing a bit.

Hawthorn drew in a breath, centering herself before starting to sing the song she’d crafted.

“When the evening falls and the daylight is fading, from within me calls, could it be I am sleeping? For a moment I stray, then it holds me completely. Close to home – I cannot say. Close to home, feeling so far away. As I walk the room, there before me a shadow from another world, where no other can follow. Carry me to my own, to where I can cross over. Close to home – I cannot say. Close to home, feeling so far away. Forever searching; never right. I am lost in oceans of night. Forever hoping I can find memories, those memories I left behind. Even though I leave will I go on believing that this time is real – am I lost in this feeling? Like a child passing through, never knowing the reason. I am home- I Know the way. I am home – feeling oh, so far away.”

At the first notes she sung, the rich soprano voice filled the clearing and Thorin dropped his pipe when it felt as if someone had taken a hammer to his chest. His very being vibrated, and he stared in stunned amazement at the lass sitting across the fire from him.

The words were beautiful, echoing a lot of what he had felt in the years since Smaug had sacked Erebor and left his people homeless. However, it was her voice that pulled him and made his spirit vibrate even harder. His breath caught in his throat, and all he could do was focus on her face as she sang.

When the song ended, all of the dwarrow complimented her on her beautiful voice as well as the song she’d written. Thorin stayed frozen until a touch to his shoulder drew his attention away from her to the face of his adviser. Balin had a look of anxiety on his face.

“Are you all right, laddie?”

“I..,” his voice trailed off, throat too tight to try to speak. He swallowed and shook his head, accepting his pipe from the older dwarrow.

“It’s the lass, isn’t it? You have the look, Thorin,” he said, eyes holding a look of hope.

Again, Thorin could only nod since his body and mind were not allowing him any other form of communication. He could only feel relief and happiness at the joy that crossed his oldest friend’s face, and he understood all of the reasons for Balin’s happiness.

The king-in-exile had spent years alone, not allowing himself to hope that he would ever find his One, and it had been something Balin and Dwalin alone knew. He’d confessed it to them the night of Dis’s wedding, spending time alone as his sister enjoyed her wedding night. The pair had found him at the forge and eventually, the words of loneliness had come out. 

Thorin had accepted he would spend his life alone, enjoying the happiness of those he loved and called his family. His two friends had not given up hope for him, and now their hope and prayers had finally been answered. 

He had found his One in the generous hobbit lass who had impressed him a great deal with her bravery and gentle nature. What she had endured in the Shire had only strengthened his admiration since he knew how much pain she carried inside.

“I’m happy for you, laddie,” Balin whispered, squeezing his shoulder before going to share the news with his brother.

The dwarf lord knew the pair would keep this information to themselves until he was ready to approach Oin for permission to court his daughter. That he couldn’t do until he had a gift for her, but Thorin had a fairly good idea on what to craft. Hopefully, he could find a forge where he would be allowed to work while in Rivendell.

Part of him wanted to wait until they reclaimed Erebor, but he had seen the pain in her eyes and the hope that had flickered into life when he’d shared his thoughts about her possibly finding someone who would accept that she would not be able to bare them children. He couldn’t and wouldn’t make her wait any longer because he had no wish to cause that fledgling hope building in her heart to fade, and he just hoped that the gift Yavanna had granted Her children so they would be able to find their Ones would soon manifest so that Hawthorn would reach the same realization he had tonight.

No, he wouldn’t make her wait and would do the best he could to give her the courtship she deserved while they traveled. If things went as he hoped, secretly in his heart, then he could make up for the courtship by ensuring she had a wedding worthy of the queen he wanted her to be.

Thorin said very little the rest of the night, going to sleep with the sound of her voice ringing in his mind. He slept restlessly, not saying much the next day until they reached a place to camp. The dwarf lord had not been pleased with Gandalf’s reluctance to stay there, but he knew how much pain the hobbit was in and would not push her to go any further that evening. 

Tharkûn’s departure troubled him somewhat, but he knew he’d done the right thing when he’d seen the look of relief on Miss Baggins’s face as the herbs finally kicked in. Oin had not been pleased with the swelling, and both king-in-exile and his cousin hoped that they would reach Rivendell soon.

The leader of the company was pulled away from his thoughts later that evening when his sister-sons came bursting into the camp, startling everyone away from their meals.

“Trolls!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note - Thorin’s life just keeps on remaining eventful, doesn’t it? Please let me know what you thought of the chapter. See everyone next time! ~Laran


	10. The Third in a Series of Problematic Events

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – I am so very amazed by the response the scene where Hawthorn sang and Thorin’s response. You guys are awesome! So now we get a chance to see how her influence can change a very infamous scene.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

All eyes of the company turned towards the two young dwarrow in stunned disbelief, and Thorin rose to approach the pair. He really wasn’t happy to hear his nephews’ report and hoped he’d misheard because it would mean a considerable amount of danger for the company if he hadn’t.

“Did you say you two saw trolls?”

“Some of the ponies went missing so we tracked them,” Fili said, displeased with the knowledge he was bringing bad news to his uncle. “There’s three trolls camping not far from here; they don’t know we’re close by yet so we have the advantage.”

Hawthorn’s eyes widened as everyone quickly grabbed weapons, realizing what they meant to do and knowing it wasn’t the best idea. Trolls were notoriously difficult to fight, and she knew cleverness would have to provide a more potent weapon than steel.

“You can’t mean to fight them?”

“We need the ponies,” Dwalin responded as he picked up his axes. “And it’s better to do it now while we have the advantage of surprise.”

“What if there’s another way to eliminate the problem,” she asked, struggling to her feet with Gloin’s help.

“What do you mean,” Balin asked, focusing his attention on her. 

“Three trolls at night are incredibly dangerous, especially considering we only have a group of fourteen and one of us isn’t exactly at full mobility,” the hobbit quickly answered, hoping they’d be willing to try her idea. “There might be a way to cleverly dispose of them without putting our group at risk. Serious injuries this early in the quest would be a very bad thing.”

Thorin and the others stopped arming themselves, their gazes turning to the lass. She was leaning against her staff, keeping most of her weight off of her injured leg.

“Do you have an idea,” the king-in-exile asked. He was willing to hear her out because he knew just how deadly the situation they were facing could become, and he was not willing to allow harm to come to his company if there was another way to handle things.

“I do actually,” Hawthorn replied, grateful he was willing to listen to her. “I saw some belladonna not far from where the latrine was dug; if we can use it and find other poisonous herbs, we can brew up a poison in Master Bombur’s biggest pot.”

“I have a few I can contribute to the concoction,” Nori answered. “I’m sure Oin might have some too. The problem is how to get them to drink it. While not known for being smart, trolls can be mighty suspicious.”

“By doing what hobbits do best,” she said with a wry smile. “I’ll be neighborly and drop by with a nice tea as a welcoming gift. I should be able to talk them into drinking it since it’s a present and would be rude not to.”

“You honestly think that’ll work,” Bofur asked, rubbing the back of his neck. “They’re not exactly the type of beings who will care about being rude.”

“I hope so but better to try it first rather than endanger ourselves in a battle against creatures that are notoriously difficult to bring down,” the lass told him. “Dawn is too far away, and Mithrandir has yet to return.” 

“How will you get it to them,” Fili questioned. “That pot will be too heavy for you to carry with that leg.”

“One of you will come with me, pretending to be my husband,” she said, blushing a bit. “He’ll have to be unarmed though to make it believable and willing to follow along with whatever it is I have to say to convince them to drink it as well as buy us time for it to work.”

All of them stared at her for a long moment before Thorin nodded, breaking the silence.

“I will accompany you,” he said. “Nori, Oin, find the poisons and get that brewed. Once this is done, Dwalin will have my weapons and all of you will be hiding silently in case things go wrong. I hope Miss Baggins’s plan will be effective, but we should be prepared in case something goes wrong.”

The group quickly went into motion as Bombur filled his pot with water and got it ready to boil while the others went looking for more poisonous plants. They’d gotten a swift lesson on what to look for from Oin and Nori before scrambling off.

Hawthorn took a seat on a tree stump, rubbing her face for a moment. She looked up when she realized Thorin was standing in front of her.

“Are you certain you wish to do this?”

“I am,” she replied softly. “Truth be told, I’m the only one who can pull this off believably since I’ve seen this particular event happen a quite a few times as a fauntling. I’m sorry you have to come with me.”

Thorin quickly realized she was concerned about him being in danger alongside her, and his voice was gentle when he answered her.

“I would not let you go into danger alone, Miss Baggins,” he told her. “Thank you for coming up with the plan; I appreciate you trying to keep the Company from harm.”

“Getting your people home is important, and we can’t do that if we’re slowed down or stopped because of serious injuries,” the lass said to him. “I just hope this will work, and we won’t have to fight.”

“Miss Baggins, if fighting does become necessary, I want you to hide when the Company attacks,” Thorin instructed. “I know you are proficient with the staff, but your speed and mobility have been hindered due to your injury.”

“I will,” she promised, knowing he was right in doing this. “I’m sorry I won’t be of much use.”

“You came up with a plan to keep the Company safe while we handle the trolls,” he answered. “Truthfully, Miss Baggins, you have been more than useful so do not think that way anymore.”

“I’ll try,” she said quietly. 

Thorin nodded, hoping she would take his words to heart. He turned to watch the Company as they began steeping the poisonous herbs together. Oin added a few others he'd gathered to give the concoction a pleasant aroma without diluting the potency of the brew.

“It's ready,” the healer announced.

The king-in-exile carefully grabbed the pot, offering Hawthorn his arm when he realized she’d passed her staff to Ori for safekeeping. She took it, leaning against him to help keep herself balanced while walking.

The pair made it to the outskirts of the clearing, waiting to ensure the Company was in place. They heard a soft bird sound, and the dwarf looked down at the lass beside him.

“That’s the signal. Ready?”

“Yes,” she answered, drawing a deep breath.

At her nod, the pair of them stepped into the clearing and Hawthorn started chatting in a friendly tone.

“Good evening! We’re sorry to interrupt your dinner, but I had heard we had new neighbors and just had to bring something special by to welcome you.”

Thorin began silently praying as the three mountain trolls stared at them. Finally, the one wearing the apron broke the silence.

“You came to welcome us? Why would you do that?”

“Because it's the neighborly thing to do! My husband and I have been living in the area for a while now so it's wonderful to have someone nearby to chat with. Rin is an incredible husband but can't cook at all, and I've been looking forward to having someone to share recipes with since he’s more interested in eating than speaking of how it was made.”

That caused the face of the apron wearing troll to brighten up, much to Thorin’s surprise. He had no idea that trolls liked to cook so this was a learning experience for him, and he knew this would be a good way for Hawthorn to lull the trio into trusting her. 

“Same with these two, no head for cooking at all. I would've thought a small lady like yourself would have friends to chat with?”

“Have you heard of hobbits,” she asked, keeping her tone pleasant and quite friendly.

“Nope, I haven't. What are they?”

"Not many have heard of us simply because we tend to live alone once we come of age and are able to marry. People try to avoid us because we eat pretty much anything, and it frightens them. Why, I met my dear husband while I was hunting to stock my cellar for the winter! Nothing makes roasted dwarf taste better than having someone special to share it with.”

Thorin just gave her a smile, hoping it would help the trolls believe her words. He was fairly impressed with how quick she was in coming up with their cover story.

“Roasted dwarf? I must get that recipe,” the troll informed her.

“I would be delighted to share that as well as my orc and warg pie that goes perfectly with my special tea. Rin is especially fond of that one; he asks for it several times a month. Goodness me, I'm standing here chattering on while this tea gets cold. Rin, would you be a dear and pass the pot to our new friends,” she asked, giving the dwarf a smile.

Thorin stepped forward, handing the pot to the cooking troll while Hawthorn continued to talk.

“This tea is my mama’s recipe. It enhances the flavor of anything you serve with it, and it’s absolutely delightful. It's a favorite of ours so I brewed this to share with our new neighbors; I really hope you enjoy it!”

The three trolls each sniffed the pot, commenting on how good it smelled. They took turns guzzling it down until it was empty, and it didn't take long before the potent brew took effect. The ground shook with the force of impact from the three bodies hitting it, making Hawthorn lean a bit more against Thorin to brace herself.

Dwalin emerged with the others, checking the monsters before signaling they were dead. Hawthorn sagged into the dwarf lord with a sigh of relief, eyes closing for several moments while the Company cheered.

"Fili, Kili, get the ponies back with the others. We’ll rest tonight and then find their cave in the morning,” Thorin ordered.

The two dwarves nodded, cutting through the rope holding the gate of the pen closed and soothing the distraught animals so they could follow their uncle’s orders.

Hawthorn took her staff from Ori, giving him a grateful smile. Her hip and leg were throbbing, and she was ready to sleep. Today had been way too long, especially with having to focus all of her attention on keeping the trolls from reacting poorly towards her and Thorin.

She looked up when Gloin stopped in front of her, recognizing the expression of pride on his bearded face. It made her heart twist a bit, realizing it had been a very long time since anyone had felt that towards her.

“Let's get you back to camp, lass. You did very well today,” the red haired dwarf told her, making her give him a small smile in response.

“Thank you, uncle. I was scared it wouldn't work and the Company would have to fight,” she replied, leaning against her new family member when he offered his arm.

“You kept us safe, Miss Hawthorn, and we are grateful to you for that,” Balin told her, giving her a proud smile as the rest of the dwarrow chimed in with praise and gratitude for her success.

The Company made their way back to camp and soon had fallen asleep with Balin and Oin taking first watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note - Well, it seems Hawthorn has the gift of quick thinking and gab. I had to really rework this scene a few times because I wanted that gift, which is so prominent in canon Bilbo, to shine. I hope you all enjoyed it. See you next chapter! ~ Laran


	11. Entering Rivendell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – The response for the previous chapter has been amazing, and I’m enjoying the comments a great deal. Thank you so much for your encouragement and support.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

The next morning, after breakfast, which Gandalf had returned in time for, the group returned back to where the trolls’ corpses were. The ponies were still grazing near the camp since Thorin had decided they would pack their equipment onto the animals after they had gone through the troll hoard. Everything was packed and ready for their departure so time wouldn't be lost.

Hawthorn shook her head, eying the cave with trepidation. The smell was atrocious, and she decided to sit this one out and let the others explore the small cavern. She leaned against a stone, watching the Company as they went in and out of the cave. Gandalf and Thorin eventually exited the cave, each bearing a new blade. The Istar headed towards her with what looked like a sheathed blade in hand.

“This should be your size,” he began. “I'll teach you how to use this in tandem with your staff, and I know we'll all feel better knowing you have an additional weapon to use. It will also give you warning if goblins and orcs are nearby as it will start glowing blue.”

“Thank you, Mithrandir,” she said, moving away from the stone.

He smiled, helping her belt on the weapon and position it where she could easily draw it. She could see some of his concerns fade a little at her acceptance of the sword and was pleased she was able to ease even a little of the burden he was carrying. 

Before she could say anything, there were shouts about something approaching and she found herself pulled to stand behind her new family. She grasped her staff and stayed ready to move to help defend her fellow Company members.

“Radagast!”

Hawthorn frowned in concern as the two wizards conversed, wondering what it was that had the brown wizard so upset. She knew a little about the Istar from conversations with both Gandalf and a few elves she called friend, and the behavior he was showing really didn’t match what she’d been told.

“Something troubles you?”

Hawthorn nodded, gaze moving from Radagast to Thorin. His eyes flickered from the Istari to her, settling back on her face once she answered.

“From what little I know of him, I find myself rather unsettled by his arrival and how distressed he is. Radagast is known to be somewhat excitable but not like this. What worries me more is that he rarely leaves the lands Yavanna charged him to watch over,” she answered.

“This could mean ill news,” he commented, realizing she had cause for concern.

“I'm afraid so,” the hobbit murmured. “We just to have hope that the news he brings will not have any impact on our quest.”

“Agreed but we will remain cautious in case he does bring ill news that could have an effect on our mission,” Thorin answered. “This way, we will not be caught off guard.”

The lass nodded, grabbing her pack and slinging it onto her back. The other dwarrow began doing the same, knowing they would have to leave soon.

The bone chilling howl made everyone freeze in dread before moving into a defensive position.

“Wargs,” Hawthorn said, recognizing the deep sound that haunted her dreams some nights. “Yavanna watch over us.”

Thorin reacted quickly when the foul creatures burst through the trees, working in tandem with Dwalin to dispatch the wargs. This was a setback he had been praying to avoid, and his heart sank when he heard Ori’s report regarding their runaway ponies. His eyes turned to Hawthorn for a moment, knowing her injury would be agitated and slow them down.

“We need to go now,” Thorin ordered, wanting to take advantage of the odd wizard’s distraction.

The Company fled, hurrying as they followed Gandalf out of the Trollshaws and deeper into the wild. Thorin managed to glance back, feeling relieved when he spotted Gloin and Balin staying beside her to help where they could.

The run was difficult for all of them, especially when Gandalf disappeared on them. All they could do then was stand and fight, and the king-in-exile hoped against hope that no one in his company would be injured as they faced the pack.

Thorin was proud of Kili when he brought down the warg, and his pride grew as his sister-sons engaged the orc pack that headed their way. Both of his nephews fought well, ensuring to help keep the company protected.

When the last dwarf slid into the small cave, he did a quick head count and was relieved to see no injuries. Hawthorn was limping worse, but the dwarf lord had expected that. The run would have done her no favors at all.

"Is Miss Baggins able to continue,” he asked Oin.

“Aye but we need to get her off of her feet soon. I've no idea how long that leg will hold her up,” the healer answered. “The running caused the swelling to become worse.

“Hopefully, we are not far from the elves’ valley. They arrived fairly quickly so it might not take long to get her to the elf lord.”

The group followed the path, and Hawthorn leaned against Gloin as the leg ached worse than it had previously. She breathed a sigh of relief when they crossed the bridge to wait in the courtyard for someone to welcome them. 

Hawthorn smiled when Elrond rode up with his warriors and called out a greeting, preempting the wizard.

“Blessed day, my lord,” she greeted, pleased to see him once again. 

The elf lord beamed at the sight of her and quickly dismounted, heading towards her. He knelt in front of her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Blessed day, little blossom. I am overjoyed to see you.”

“As I am to see you,” she answered. “If I may, my lord, I have someone I would like to introduce to you.”

“Of course,” he replied, rising to his feet.

Thorin approached when he spotted her small gesture to come forward, glad she had taken the initiative to make the introductions. While Tharkûn did have a way with words, he found himself trusting Hawthorn to ensure everything went smoothly.

“My lord, it is my honor and pleasure to introduce you to Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, lord of Durin’s Folk. Thorin, this is my dear friend and uncle of my heart, Lord Elrond of Imladris.”

“Well met, Thorin, son of Thrain, you and yours are welcome to Imladris,” the elf said, matching the bow from the dwarf.

“You have my thanks, Lord Elrond.”

“Are any of your Company injured,” he asked. “I know you were attacked by a pack of orcs and wargs.”

“Miss Baggins injured her bad leg several days ago,” Thorin told him, chuckling when the elf got a look of concern and swept the hobbit off of her feet. The squeak she gave was rather adorable.

“Lindir, please see to it our guests are made comfortable. I need to see to Hawthorn and will meet with them once she is resting,” he told the elf who had greeted them earlier.

Oin looked at Thorin questioningly, and the dark haired dwarf nodded in response. The healer should be with his daughter and would update them once he was satisfied with Hawthorn’s condition.

Lindir escorted them to a wing that held comfortable looking bedrooms and told them that someone would be by to take them to dinner. Once he was gone, the group took advantage of the facilities given to them, taking time to get cleaned up. Once they were done, they were escorted to the elf lord’s private dining hall, finding Oin waiting for them.

“How is Miss Baggins?”

“Doing better, Thorin. His daughter helped her bathe, and Lord Elrond put a salve on the swelling to bring it down. She ate and took something for pain, and she was sleeping peacefully when I left,” the healer answered.

“I am glad to hear it,” Thorin told him, relieve to know his One had been given some relief from the pain of her old injuries.

“As am I,” his cousin replied. “He’s protective of the lassie, which I was pleased to see. He questioned me a few times and didn’t seem too surprised when he spotted the family bead in her hair. All he asked is that we make sure she is loved and taken care of. So far, he’s not so bad for a weed-eater.”

“If he cares that much for her, then perhaps he is not,” the dwarf lord stated. “Miss Baggins seems to be a good judge of character so we must wait to see if her admiration of him and other people here have been well earned.”

“Hawthorn does indeed have a good judge of character,” Elrond stated as he entered the dining area. “All of us here must work to ensure that we never do anything to break the trust she has in us. From what little she has said, she also holds this company in high regard.”

“We are honored to have that regard,” Thorin told him, taking a seat once the elf lord had done so. 

“She briefly mentioned that she came along with you because she identified some markings on a map you inherited,” he asked, nodding to Lindir so the meal could be served.

“Hawthorn did indeed discover it, but we shall need your help to read them,” Gandalf interjected. “Apparently, these are the more uncommon ones.”

“After the meal is over, I shall inspect it and determine when the map can be read,” Elrond offered. “I’m not surprised she uncovered the existence of the runes. She enjoyed learning about them when she stumbled across some documents that contained them while researching in the library.”

The meal continued from there; Elrond took the time to identify the two swords that Gandalf and Thorin both carried, gifting the blades to them. It had caught the dwarf by surprise, but he was pleased with the generosity. Orcrist was a fine blade and would serve him well.

Once dinner was through, Gandalf, Balin, and Thorin followed Elrond into a quiet area and the dwarf lord handed him the map. They watched as he held it up to examine it in the moonlight.

“Hawthorn was indeed right; the runes are specialized ones that will require a specific moon. This particular moon will shine upon us in three weeks. You and your company are welcome to remain here as my honored guests until that time arrives,” the elf lord told the other lord.

Thorin nodded, disheartened that it would take this long but he would make proper use of the time given. There were a few things he needed to do before they left the elvish home.

“You have my thanks. Would there be a forge that I might make use of during our time here?”

“There is, and I shall have someone escort you there tomorrow morning after you have broken your fast. I wish you all a good evening; rest well.”

Elrond returned the map to his guest and went to check on his patient, leaving the dwarves and wizard alone for the time being. The elf wanted to ensure the niece of his heart was resting well and would heal swiftly before fate continued to guide her towards where she was to go. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe Hawthorn was here simply on a scholastic endeavor, and there was more going on that the Valar had in store for this group. 

He knew part of it centered around Erebor; Thorin’s presence along with the map certainly guaranteed that. While he could understand the longing for a home, Elrond worried about Smaug. If the dragon were wakened, it could mean devastation for Middle Earth. However, the part of his talents attuned to foresight cautioned him to watch and wait before acting and he would do just that for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note - I hope everyone enjoyed this; please let me know what you thought of it. ~ Laran


	12. Reactions and Schemes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – I am really happy with everyone’s reactions to the last chapter posted and to the new story put up. Writing is slow due to Mom taking two falls and messing up her ankle and tailbone; I’m trying to wade through and will get more done, I promise! Just keep her in your thoughts please.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make money from this story! The song used in this story, “Seeds of Love” by Loreena McKennitt, is not my property either. It fit perfectly this chapter, and I just had to use it!

The Company had taken time to rest and occasionally going to see Hawthorn while she spent the next two days in the halls of healing. Elrond spent some of his time there, observing the interactions of the hobbit with the dwarrow who visited her during her convalescence. He was pleased to see how fond the males were of the only female in their group, knowing that she would be cared for and protected during the fated journey.

The time he’d spent in meditation had only pushed his acceptance of this quest the dwarrow were on, though he had a feeling that more than just a mountain home hung in the balance. The elf lord had no idea what it was, but he was putting his trust in the Valar and would help where he could.

There was one occasion that had most of the occupants of the sickroom startled. Thorin had come in to check on Hawthorn’s health, querying her gently and also asking Oin about her status. Seeing that the patient was groggy due to the medicines she had been given, the king-in-exile had wished her a speedy recovery before leaving to return to the forge where he had been spending a great deal of his time lately.

The hobbit’s drowsy voice filled the room after the door had closed; her eyes were almost shut as she made an observation.

“Juniper, he smells like juniper.”

Oin gasped, hearing that statement clearly and remembering her words during a discussion about Ones some nights back. This was something he hadn’t expected and judging from the looks on Elrond’s and Gandalf’s faces, they hadn’t expected it either. They had been around the dwarf lord and had not detected the scent the lass had remarked on so they knew exactly what was going on.

“I hadn’t expected for this to happen so soon after adopting her,” the healer said, sounding both pleased and saddened. “I think we need to pull Thorin aside as soon as we can and see if he has realized who she is to him.”

“And see what his intentions are,” the elf lord agreed. “Has he shown signs of recognizing her as his One?”

“She sang for us the other night, but I was more focused on her than him,” Oin admitted, frowning. “If he reacted to her voice, I didn’t see it.”

“If I remember correctly, there is still a pull he’ll feel whenever she sings until the bonding process is started through the betrothal. Am I correct in this,” Elrond asked.

“That’s right,” the dwarf shared. “He’ll react to her voice until the bonding is started. A fully bonded and married couple will still react to each other’s voice, but it won’t be as strong as it is before the bonding begins.”

“She’s set to be released tomorrow; I can have one of my sons mention the Hall of Fire to a few members of your company. I’m certain we can get her to sing again and this time, you and I can observe Thorin to see what his reaction is.”

“I think I like that plan,” Oin said, looking at the elf. “If he shows signs of her being his One, we’ll need to have a long chat with him.”

“You would include me in that discussion,” Elrond asked, taken aback by the meaning in the dwarf’s words.

“You’re part of my daughter’s family; she claims you as uncle and loves you as such. You healed her and tried to help her through the difficult times,” the healer told him. “I’ll recognize that claim.”

That surprised the lord of Imladris, and he was grateful to the dwarf for accepting the claim he and Hawthorn had laid on each other years ago.

“I am grateful, Master Oin. I know you will protect her and ensure her happiness when I cannot,” he said to him. “In truth, I know how protective dwarrow are of their children and I am pleased Hawthorn has been taken in as a child of your heart. She’s been without family for too long, and I could not convince her to join us here in Imladris so that she would have the love and care she needs. I am incredibly happy the Valar brought the company to her door and will work with you to make sure of her health and happiness.”

The dwarf nodded, looking over at the wizard for a moment before focusing his attention on the book their host had loaned him on certain herbal compounds. He knew the wily old Istar would invite himself to that chat since he looked on the lass as his own granddaughter so there wasn’t much of a point in inviting him. 

One thing was certain; if Thorin and Hawthorn were each other’s Ones, then their king would have to do some convincing in order to gain permission to court the hobbit lass from those who loved her as one of their own.

That thought came back to Oin and the others who participated in the earlier conversation when the company joined the elves in the Hall of Fire after Hawthorn’s release from the Halls of Healing. Music filled the air whenever stories weren’t being told, and Elrond was the one who asked the hobbit for a song. No one in the Hall of Fire would hear of her refusing, bringing a shower of pleas from elf and dwarf alike, and the lass gave a quiet sigh since she knew she wouldn’t be able to get away with not sharing a song with them.

Hawthorn was quiet, running through the ones she had written before choosing one she hadn’t shared with anyone since her parents’ deaths. She drew in a deep breath and began to sing, closing her eyes as she focused on the words of the song she had written during her tweens before the accident that had changed her life so much.

“I sowed the seeds of love; I sowed them in the spring. I gathered them up in the morning so clear when the small birds so sweetly sing, when the small birds so sweetly sing. The gardener was standing by; I asked him to choose for me. He chose for me the violet, the lily and the pink. But those I refused all three, but those I refused all three. The violet I did not like because it bloomed so soon. The lily and the pink I really over-think so I thought I would wait till June, so I thought I would wait till June. In June there was a red rose bud that is the flower for me. I often times have plucked that red rose bud till I gained the willow tree, till I gained the willow tree. The willow tree will twist. The willow tree will twine. I often have wished I was in the young man's arms who once had the arms of mine, who once had the arms of mine. I sowed the seeds of love; I sowed them in the spring. I gathered them up in the morning so soon when the small birds so sweetly sing, when the small birds so sweetly sing.”

Though her eyes were closed as she sang and the gazes of almost everyone in the hall were on her, several people were watching a certain dwarf lord. They quickly caught the look of stunned amazement on his face as a hand pressed hard against his chest, and the expression soon turned to wonder and longing as he continued to feel the recognition of his One.

Oin, Gandalf, and Elrond shared a look, knowing they would need to pull Thorin aside to discover what his plans were regarding the hobbit. Now that they knew that the recognition wasn’t just one sided, the king-in-exile would have to share what his plans were now that he knew who his One was.

When the music finally hit a lull point and Hawthorn retired, Oin moved to his king’s side and murmured quietly.

“Can we speak in private, Thorin?”

The dwarf lord nodded, getting up from his seat and following the healer. He was a bit surprised when he spotted Elrond and Gandalf waiting for them in a small room but said nothing, closing the door behind him.

“You wanted to speak with me?”

“Aye, I did. Something came up yesterday after you left the Halls of Healing; truth is, I didn’t expect it and we got confirmation of it tonight.”

“Confirmation of what,” Thorin asked the healer, sounding a bit confused.

Elrond met Oin’s eyes for a moment and at the nod from the dwarf, he answered the question from the company’s leader.

“After you left the hall yesterday, Hawthorn made a comment about a scent she smelled. As you know, it’s a sign hobbits are given to help recognize their soulmates.”

The expression on Thorin’s face was a mix of hope and guardedness, and Elrond continued.

“We had to test our theory to ensure that she was not the only one receiving a sign regarding her soulmate so I asked her to sing tonight,” the elf told him. “From what I recall of the stories, the recognition for a soulmate will continue to be incredibly powerful until the bonding process begins.”

“We were given proof that you feel the recognition towards Hawthorn,” Gandalf interjected. “And you know she is important to all of us here so we have an important question to ask you, Thorin.”

“What, exactly, are your intentions towards my daughter,” Oin asked, eyes focused on the one he called both cousin and king.

“It is true that she is my One; I realized that when she sang for us the other night. Balin also noticed my reaction and knows the truth as well. I have had time to think about my intentions towards her.”

Thorin bowed his head, hand over his heart as he continued his answer.

“Oin, son of Groin, father of Hawthorn Baggins, I come to you with nothing but an open heart. Your daughter, gem of your house, is the One our Maker and His bride crafted for me. I seek your permission to court her with the intention of making her my beloved wife and queen,” he said, keeping his head low as per tradition.

“Will you make the gem of my house the treasure of yours?”

“A treasure beyond all treasures,” Thorin answered truthfully.

“You will love and protect this treasure for all of your days,” he asked, eying the dwarf in front of him.

“With every breath I draw and with every beat of my heart will I love and protect my One, the truest treasure of my heart and house,” the king-in-exile vowed.

“Thorin II Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, I grant you permission to court my daughter, gem of my house, and will hold you to the vows you have sworn before me and her family,” Oin answered, watching as the other dwarf rose from the vow.

“Thank you,” he said to the healer, voice showing his genuine gratitude.

“She will have concerns,” Gandalf commented, knowing why the hobbit would try to push Thorin away despite the confirmation she’d been given.

“I know of them, Tharkûn,” Thorin replied. “The night Kili pushed her about whether or not she’d had her eye on someone, she spoke to me of her injuries and the reason why her people treated her as they have. I assured her that there would be men who would see her for the treasure she is and not for any ability to grant them children. I will remind her of this as well as ensure she knows that my line is secure through my sister-sons.”

“I am heartened to hear it,” Elrond said softly. “I know this has weighed on her heart since she was given the news. I have not seen her smile once after I had to tell her just how badly the fall and the stabbing had injured her; not even the antics of my children and Glorfindel could bring about a true smile or laughter from her. It is my hope and prayer that you will be able to bring her smile back to us, Thorin. It has been greatly missed.”

“It is mine as well,” the dark haired dwarf told him honestly. “I have heard Tharkûn speak of how freely she sang, smiled, and laughed, and I hope to help her regain that lightness of spirit.”

Elf, dwarf, and Istar looked rather pleased with his words and soon, they went their own ways. Thorin retired to his bed that night, thinking about the gift he had already started for Hawthorn and hoping she would accept both it and him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors End Note - Well, he’s faced the men in her life and managed to go through this. I came up with ritual approaches to courting and hope you enjoyed it. More to come next week. Please let me know what you thought of the chapter! ~ Laran


	13. Scholars at Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – The response for the last chapter was utterly amazing. I’ve had requests for Elladan, Elrohir, and Glorfindel to show up to give Thorin a difficult time about Hawthorn. Since I’m ahead in writing chapters, there’s really no way to work it in without screwing up the pacing of the Rivendell chapters. However, that being said, I have a plan for the trio to give Thorin hell for a while about him being with their hobbit! It’s too good an opportunity to pass up so I must ask for patience because the scene all of you want will happen eventually! I promise.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make money from this story.

Hawthorn spent the next few days after her release from the halls of healing taking it easy physically. It was not unusual to find her in the library, Ori sitting at her table, and the pair would be lost in the books they had chosen to read. 

While the dwarf had chosen books of various topics to enjoy, the hobbit had focused herself on subjects that would be of use to the quest. She had spoken to Erestor about whether or not a recent map of Mirkwood had been drawn and found that there had been so she spent time copying that for their use. Books on dragons had also been pulled out for research as well.

It was after she had copied the map and chased down a certain elf for a long discussion that Hawthorn seemed troubled by something. When asked by the friends she had made in the company, the lass would wave it off and tell them she had been thinking about the research she had been doing. Despite the troubled expression on her face, she would not speak of it anytime they saw her looking that way, which happened occasionally during their time in Rivendell.

Balin had come looking for her and Ori during one of those days where the pair had cloistered themselves up in the library, forgetting about mealtimes. He was waylaid near the front of the room when he was greeted by an elf, noticing the books surrounding him with a smile. It seemed that no matter the race, a scholar would always find themselves penned in by a multitude of tomes.

“May I help you, master dwarf?”

“I was looking for two of my companions; they missed luncheon again,” he answered, shaking his head and blinking at the soft laugh from the elf.

“One of those companions has to be Hawthorn; my lord Elrond teases her quite often about moving her bed in here since she prefers to remain in the library during her visits. The girl never seems to stop working or studying.”

“Devoted to her craft,” Balin asked, having a feeling this was the elf she had mentioned learning her scribing skills from besides her father.

“That she is; Hawthorn has always been an eager student. I sometimes thought Bungo sent her here so he could cram more knowledge into his head in peace and be able to keep ahead of her during her absence. She is a delight to teach but can be voracious when it comes to a subject that intrigues her.”

“From what the lass has mentioned, you must be Erestor? The one who taught her about book binding and scribing?”

“I apologize for my manners, Master Dwarf. I am Erestor,” he said, rising to his feet and bowing. “She has made me proud over the years. Several of the books in the library were made by her.”

“Balin, son of Fundin, at your service,” he answered with a small bow of his own. “Are they indeed? I had the pleasure of seeing one of her works before we left the Shire; the person who had hired her for the task greatly undervalued her work,” the adviser commented, blinking when the elf smiled.

“I doubt it was her best one. Would you wait a moment? I would like to show it to you,” Erestor asked, happy to show off his student’s work.

“Of course,” Balin replied, actually feeling somewhat at ease with the scholar.

Erestor hurried down a certain aisle and came back with a beautiful book bound in black leather. It was trimmed in silver with silver thread in the binding as well. 

Balin took the book, checking the work on the binding before opening it up to see the most elegant script shaping words in Sindarin and what looked like another elvish language. He gently turned the pages, spying illustrations that were simply breathtaking.

“Did she do the illustrating as well?”

“She did,” Elrohir answered. “One of our books was falling apart, and she snuck it out of the library to copy it so the knowledge wouldn’t be lost. She actually improved on the illustrations as well; it was a gift for Lord Elrond and one he values a great deal.”

“This is a masterwork,” the dwarf said softly. 

“I consider it so as does Lord Elrond and Lord Celeborn,” the librarian stated. “The Lord of Lothlórien was here when she presented it to my lord Elrond and has tried to purchase it from him several times. My lord Elrond values it too highly and refuses. I have standing orders to keep it hidden whenever Lord Celeborn visits.”

“It has been decades since I have seen talent such as this and only when young Ori came to me as an apprentice,” Balin commented, hands gently stroking the spine of the book. “Miss Hawthorn shines in skill and talent as brightly as he does.”

“If we had guilds, she would certainly qualify for a mastery in this craft but we have never organized ourselves in such a way,” Erestor commented. “She has been a joy to teach, never finding knowledge to be useless no matter how esoteric it can be.”

“I was blessed with that in Ori,” he shared. “He’s a journeyman now and is documenting the events of this journey for his masterwork.”

“I am glad she has made a friend with someone who shares her interests. After her father’s death, Hawthorn has had no one in the Shire to talk over the topics she has researched. She seems rather relaxed in the young dwarf’s presence,” the elf said quietly.

Balin nodded, lost in thought for a moment.

“Would you mind leaving this out? I need to speak with someone quickly, and I’d like him to see it for himself.”

“Of course not,” Erestor told him. “Just let me know when you’re done with it so I can shelve it again.”

“I will return shortly,” the dwarf promised, heading out of the library to find his king.

Thanks to a helpful elf in one of the passageways, Balin was directed to the forge and found Thorin working on a project. The adviser waited for a moment until the monarch had stepped away from the anvil before announcing his presence, not wanting to startle the blacksmith while he was working with hot metal.

“Is there something you needed, Balin?”

“There is,” he answered. “I found something today that has me wanting to exercise my right as Guild Master and do something that has not been done in nearly two centuries.”

Thorin frowned, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat off of his face. 

“What is it you found?”

“One of Miss Hawthorn’s projects that she created for Lord Elrond; Thorin, it’s a masterwork of a quality I have not seen in many years.”

“You want to give her rank and induct her into the guild,” the king asked, meeting his old friend’s eyes.

“I do,” Balin replied. “It reminds me of my own master’s handiwork. She deserves the rank, Thorin, and I want to bring her into the guild because she deserves a position amongst the scriveners. Her talent is too great to not be recognized.”

“I’d like to see this project,” Thorin commented. “It must be well done to have gained your approval.”

“It’s in the library,” the adviser told him, watching as the blacksmith did a quick clean up before gesturing for him to lead the way.

The two dwarrow came into the library, and Balin nodded at the welcome from Erestor. He picked up the book, showing it to his king.

Thorin looked the book over, admiring the delicate stitching and detailing of the binding before opening it to view the elegant script and breathtaking illustrations. He quickly realized Balin was right and looked up at his friend while setting the book down.

“You have my approval,” he told his adviser. “Do you have what you need or shall I make one for you while I’m finishing up my project?”

“I don’t have what I need so if you’d be so kind,” he asked, smiling and continuing as the king nodded. “I’ll show this to Ori later once Miss Hawthorn isn’t near him so he’ll understand.”

“All right then,” Thorin answered. “I’ll get started on it then; also, if you talk to her, let her know that Gandalf wanted to start her lessons on using the blade that was given to her tomorrow. I’d like to know she’ll be a bit more able to protect herself when we leave here.”

“I’ll pass it on,” Balin promised, smiling as his friend headed back towards the forge. 

This would be a good thing for the recovery of Erebor, the eldest son of Fundin thought to himself. The guilds were suffering because of lack of funding to keep things running and to train new members. To find such a gem twice in his lifetime, this one not needing the refinement as Ori had when his talent was discovered, was a true gift to Balin and he would not see it wasted!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – I thought this would be a good way to potentially help bring Hawthorn into dwarven society a bit more. I really wanted a chance for her talent to shine as well as for her to keep her word regarding her research. As far as what she’s researched, you will discover that down the road. Please let me know what you thought of the chapter. ~ Laran


	14. Questions of Import

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – You guys are awesome; I’m just saying that the response to the last chapter has been amazing. Thank you all for coming on this journey and for providing such wonderful feedback. It’s always good to have because it feeds the muses. Enjoy this new installment!
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

Hawthorn roamed the gardens, leaning a little on her staff as she did so. The last few days since her discharge from the halls of healing had been busy. When she wasn’t researching in the library, Mithrandir, Balin, and Fili had her out in one of the sparring arenas to help her learn how to wield her new sword. The two dwarrow worked with her on using it alone while the Istar helped her use it in tandem with her more familiar staff.

It was slow going since she wasn’t used to a single handed weapon, but her teachers were patient and helpful. She was making progress, which made her happy since she knew the extra skills would help keep her friends safe.

The hobbit took a seat on a small bench near a brook, taking the time to relax as she listened to the water and contemplated her thoughts. Something had happened at dinner yesterday, and she was a bit taken aback by it and needed a chance to think about what had happened.

Thorin had walked by her to take his seat, and she had smelled juniper on him. A quick query to Oin had confirmed no one else had smelled it, and she knew what that meant for her. Thorin was her cariad, and she was both thrilled and terrified by the knowledge.

The dwarf was a king and would need a wife who could give him heirs; even if she could have children, she wasn’t sure that his people would accept anyone who was not a dwarf at his side. This could go wrong in so many different ways, and she simply didn’t know what to do. One thing Hawthorn was certain of, she couldn’t speak of it to Thorin until she had found someone to talk to about the situation and obtain advice as to what she should do.

A soft sound drew her from her thoughts, and blue eyes fell upon the sight of a small human child standing by the bench.

“I’m sorry, miss. I didn’t meant to disturb you.”

“You didn’t, lad,” she answered, patting the bench beside her. “Come and join me if you would like; we can enjoy the beautiful day together.”

The child smiled, sitting down beside the hobbit.

“Thank you, miss,” he said, making her smile. “My name is Estel, foster son of Lord Elrond.”

“It is nice to meet you, Estel. My name is Hawthorn Baggins, formerly of the Shire. I don’t believe we met on my previous trips here, did we?”

“No, we haven’t, Miss Baggins. I was too young during your last trip, and my brothers kept me out of the way.”

“Well, I am glad to meet you now,” she told him. “I enjoy making new friends.”

“I’m glad to meet you too and make friends. Mine are all older than me, and they don’t always understand,” the boy admitted.

“Oh I think I do,” the hobbit replied. “Elves are immortal, and they sometimes forget that time passes us by in a way different from them. They don’t seem to have issues with solitude, but the rest of us aren’t exactly made that way.”

Judging by the look of relief, Hawthorn had nailed his troubles right on the head. She gave him a gentle smile and patted his hand.

“Well, my dear Estel, I do understand what you mean by this. I adore them as family, and Lord Elrond has been like an uncle to me for many years. So if you’re his foster son, then we are cousins now. I am not one to forget the family of my heart so I’m quite afraid you’re stuck with me.”

The smile he gave her was gorgeous, and she gave him one of her usual small smiles. He really was an adorable child.

“Truly?”

“Really and truly, dear one,” she said. “Besides, we have something in common you and I.”

“What would that be, Miss Baggins,” he asked, eager to hear her explanation to that comment.

“Your name is Sindarin for hope,” the hobbit began. “I think it’s a rather beautiful name; it seems to suit you quite well. Now, hobbits name their fauntlings differently. Boys usually have an -o or -a ending to their names; girls are named for plants and sometimes gemstones.

“Most people don’t know this, but plants have meanings just as names do. Acacia stands for hidden love; bluebells mean gratitude or constancy. Pansies, like the ones next to us, means merriment. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” he answered. “It sounds like a nice way to show what you’re thinking or feeling by using flowers instead of having to speak.”

“Very good,” she praised. “Now, what do you think my name stands for?”

Estel was quiet for a moment before beaming, realizing what it was the two had in common.

“Your name means hope too!”

“It does,” the lass answered. “So we have our names in common; I’d say that’s something pretty special, don’t you?”

“We do,” he told her, grinning so very widely. 

The sound of voices calling his name made the lad sigh, and she gently ruffled his hair.

“Go on, we’ll be here for a few weeks,” Hawthorn told him. “I promise to spend some time with you before we have to go.”

“All right, Miss Baggins,” he said, blinking when she held up her hand.

“Being that we’re cousins now, you can call me Cousin Hawthorn if you like,” Hawthorn offered, eyes softening at the hug he gave her. She returned the hug, patting his back before letting go and watching him run off to those who were calling him.

“That was a kind thing you did,” a familiar voice stated, cutting through the quiet that had fallen.

Hawthorn turned to spot her adopted father, Uncle Gloin, Balin, Ori, and Thorin standing behind her. She nodded, answering back quietly.

“He’s lonely, and I can understand that. Truthfully, I believe he’s a good hearted lad and will do well here under Lord Elrond’s care. It can be difficult being different from those around you.”

“You did a good thing,” Oin commented, leaning against the back of the bench. “Now, my lass, there’s a few things we need to discuss with you. Balin, if you’ll start this off?”

The adviser nodded, moving to stand in front of the bench with Ori at his side. The younger dwarf was holding a few items, and he seemed rather excited about something.

“Miss Hawthorn, I had the pleasure of seeing more examples of your work here in Rivendell’s library and saw one that we consider to be a masterwork,” Balin began. “In this generation, I have seen only one other with the talent and dedication you have and he is now a journeyman, gathering notes for his own masterwork.

“This doesn’t happen often, but there are times when a Guild Master finds someone who has talent in his particular craft and discovers that he or she has developed the talent far enough to be considered a master themselves. When it does, the Guild Master will present the works of this person to their king and gain permission for what I am about to do. Hawthorn Baggins, as the Guild Master of the Scriveners’ Guild, I am here to award you the status of master of your craft and would like to invite you to join the guild.”

Hawthorn’s eyes were huge as she replayed Balin’s words in her mind. From the conversations she’d participated in and overheard during the journey here, she knew just how important the guilds were to dwarrow society. To be offered something like this without having had to go through an apprenticeship was a stupendous honor, and she was speechless for a moment.

“I would be honored,” she told him, finally able to get an answer out.

Balin smiled, then gave her a small bow. He was pleased with her answer, knowing Erebor needed scribes of her caliber.

“I will need to have access to your hair, Miss Hawthorn, so I can place the braid in,” he told her, watching as she pulled the heavy hairpins out of her hair.

The tawny colored curls flowed to her waist once her hair was freed from captivity, and the braid Oin had given her was nearly lost amongst the thick tresses. 

Balin separated a thick lock on the back of her head, near the right side, and began braiding. He placed one bead in the middle of the braid and used a longer one to tie the plait off once he was done.

“The bead in the middle is to show you are a member of the Scriveners’ Guild, and the bottom one marks your status as a master of your craft,” he told her. “Ori, the book please.”

The journeyman nodded, opening the book to a certain page and then handed her a quill and ink.

“Signing your name here will enlist you into our guild,” the younger dwarf told her. “This is the master’s book; Balin keeps all of the books with him to ensure they’re safe.”

Hawthorn took the quill, signing her name in her best handwriting, and then gave a small smile when she was congratulated by the group around her.

“Thank you for granting me this opportunity,” she told Balin, who smile brightly at her.

“Thank you for accepting it, Miss Hawthorn,” he answered. “Your hard work and talent speak volumes, and I couldn’t let that skill pass us by. Now, Ori and I will be off. We’ll see you at luncheon.”

Once the pair were gone, Gloin and Oin moved to stand on either side of her while Thorin positioned himself in front of the hobbit. Her eyes widened as she took in how the king was dressed; he was in full armor, hair neatly done, and weapons were shining with great care. There was a box in his hands, and she was completely at a loss as to what was going on.

Hawthorn fidgeted with her hairpins before slipping them into her pocket, looking questioningly up at her father. He caught the expression and gave her a reassuring smile, breaking the silence that had fallen.

“My daughter, Thorin, son of Thrain, has come to me and gained my approval to approach you,” he began. “Will you hear his words?”

She swallowed, realizing that she was somehow now caught in some sort of ritual and had no idea how to proceed from here. All she could do was react and hope she was giving the right answers.

“I will hear him,” the lass managed to answer, feeling very caught off guard by all of this.

“Very good,” he told her, resting a hand on her shoulder briefly to show approval and support. “Thorin, son of Thrain, you may speak with my daughter.”

Hawthorn was taken aback when the regal male sank to his knees, placing the box beside him before setting his hands, palms up, on his lap. This was a position she had never expected to see him in, and it was rather unsettling.

“Hawthorn Baggins, daughter of Bungo Baggins and Oin, I come to you today to show you, my One, all that I am. Over my life, I have been son, grandson, brother, uncle, cousin, friend, prince, blacksmith, warrior, and king-in-exile. All of these titles I have worn with pride, but there is one I had given up hope to ever be given – One. After all these years, I had thought I would never find my One and be claimed as her One.

“Mahal and Yavanna have blessed me greatly in granting me a One who is beautiful in both spirit and appearance, giving so much of herself to others even when they are nothing but strangers to her. I am in awe of her strength and compassion, and I will endeavor to spend my days proving myself worthy of her.”

He paused to draw breath, and Hawthorn felt her heart racing as well as the turmoil of emotions causing her stomach to feel as if she’d eaten quite a few living butterflies. She remained quiet as he continued.

“From the moment I first heard you sing, my soul began resonating as if Mahal Himself had struck me with His hammer and I knew that you were the One crafted for me as I have been crafted for you. I now present myself to you in every aspect so you may know who I am and consider all of this as you hear the question I have for you.

“I wish to know you and for you to come to know me,” the dark haired dwarf told her. “Hawthorn Baggins, daughter of Bungo and Oin, will you please allow this dwarf to court you?”

Hawthorn nearly choked several times as she tried to swallow to alleviate the tightness in her throat. She couldn’t believe this was happening, and the disbelief was mingled with terror and happiness.

“Thorin, as a king, you’re expected to marry and have heirs and I can’t give you the children you deserve and will need in order to continue your line,” she said, hearing the muffled sounds of pain from her uncle and father beside her.

“When you shared that part of your past with me, I told you that there are men out there who would see you for who you are and not abandon you because you cannot conceive. I care more for the traits within your heart and soul, and I am more than willing to move forward with you should you accept my offer of courtship. In regards to my duties in providing heirs to the throne, my sister has done so for our family. My line is secure in Fili and Kili; Fili will succeed me once I pass on to the halls of my ancestors.”

“Truly?”

“I swear before Mahal that I speak truly,” he assured her, not taking offense since he knew just how deeply her barrenness troubled her. Thorin could see the tears filling her eyes and somehow knew they were from happiness and relief.

“I accept your courtship,” Hawthorn told him, bringing a smile to his face that made her heart beat faster due to how the radiance of it simply made him look boyishly handsome.

“You will treat the gem of my house properly,” Oin stated, moving the ritual forward. “Have you what you need to gift her the braid of courtship?”

“I do,” Thorin answered.

“Then give her the proof that you are now courting,” the healer instructed, watching as his king rose onto his knees and gently separated out a lock of hair on the left side of her face.

Hawthorn found it difficult to breathe while his face was so close to hers; his blue eyes shone with passion, devotion, and so much life that it made the butterflies in her stomach much more active than they had been earlier. The tightness in her chest and throat didn’t ease once he settled back in his kneeling position.

“Have you a gift for my daughter?”

“I have,” he answered, passing her the box he’d brought with him. “These were forged by my own hands, and I hope they will serve you well and protect you where your family and I cannot.”

The hobbit opened the box, finding a beautiful set of throwing knives as well as the sheaths to hold them safely. Each blade was perfectly balanced with black leather wrapped around the hilt, and she could see a hawthorn blossom etched into the flat pommels.

“These are beautiful,” she told him, smiling at him. “Thank you, Thorin.”

“Thank you for accepting me,” Thorin replied, smiling that boyish smile again that caused the tightness to return.

“And so the courtship begins,” Oin said firmly. “Gloin and I will be your chaperones along with a few others of our choosing.”

“I will ensure to remain within the eye line of the chaperones during the times that Hawthorn grants me the honor of her company,” the king assured the healer.

“See that you do,” the white haired dwarf informed him. “You two may go for a walk with Gloin chaperoning. The courtship will be announced after dinner tonight. Hawthorn, I’ll put your gift in your room. Enjoy your walk, my lass.”

With that, Oin disappeared, leaving Hawthorn with the two dwarrow. She wasn’t quite sure what to say or do and hoped they would be able to guide her with this. The last thing she wanted was to make a fool of herself!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – He asked to court her! I hope everyone liked the little ritual for asking that particular questions. It took me a bit to get it phrased the way I wanted it. Please let me know what you thought of the chapter, and thank you for reading. ~ Laran


	15. Walks and Talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – I have to apologize; I usually post on Wednesday but was feeling really bad yesterday so I didn’t get it done. Thank you everyone for your kind words; all of you are amazing! The concept of duty of care came from the amazing author, Bead, who has kindly allowed me to borrow it for this story. If you’ve not read her works, go do so! She is beyond fabulous, and I enjoy all of her Hobbit stories.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

Despite her nervousness, the walk had gone incredibly well, much to Hawthorn’s relief. Thorin had offered his arm, which she had taken, and he had shared stories of his childhood while they walked the paths around the garden. She would answer questions about herself and her past, knowing that this was one of the best ways to learn about each other. The conversation didn’t pause at any awkward points, and the hobbit began feeling more relaxed as time passed.

“Do your people always approach things like this with rituals? The way you asked to court me felt like one,” she asked as the conversation shifted towards their cultures.

“Certain events in a dwarf’s life are done through ritual,” Thorin answered. “When a dwarf approaches a parent or guardian to ask for permission to court his One, he comes empty handed and presents himself without title to ask. If permission is granted, he then comes before his One in full armor and with all of his weapons to prove that he can protect the one Mahal has crafted for him. His titles, every name he has worn in his life, is laid bare before the one he wishes to court so that she may see everything about him. Nothing is hidden when he kneels before her.

“Moving from courtship to betrothed as well as betrothed to married also have their own rituals,” he shared. “The bride has her own steps to take before the wedding as does the bridegroom. It’s said that Mahal went through these very same rituals with His own bride.”

“I know little of what hobbit courtships and betrothals are like,” she admitted as they walked. “If someone were interested in courting to see if the recognition scent happens, they present flowers to the one they wish to court. From there, I’m told they spend time together – walking, picnics, and dancing at parties. I’m sure there are other things that they do. Betrothals are usually announced by the family throwing a large party.”

“Those must be interesting to attend,” Thorin commented.

“I wouldn’t know,” Hawthorn replied with a small shrug. “I’m told the food is good, and I know that’s why a lot of hobbits will go because a fine feast shows how much love the family has for their daughter and how proud they are of her.”

Thorin looked over his shoulder, catching Gloin’s eye. His cousin nodded, knowing what the other was thinking, and he turned his attention back to his One. If things progressed as he hoped it would, his hobbit lass would have her feast to celebrate their betrothal. 

“I imagine weddings are also parties with feasts,” Thorin asked, watching the small smile curve her lips for a moment.

“Hobbit parties usually revolve around food,” she admitted wryly. “And a lot of drinking as well. The feasts at weddings are hosted by the bridegroom’s family and friends to welcome the bride to their family. The ceremony itself is short, with a lot of flowers, and there’s dancing once everyone has had a chance to eat.”

“The ceremony for dwarrow is longer and can be more so depending on the status of the family,” the dwarf lord shared. “Usually, there’s a feast that follows. The more influential families will host a ball along with the feast to celebrate the marriage.”

“Sounds like it might be fun.”

“It all depends on who is present,” he answered with a rueful smile. “Some of the nobles can be annoying and refuse to leave well enough alone. Thankfully, my sister tends to help keep them away from me most of the time.”

“That would be Fili and Kili’s mother,” she asked.

“You are correct; the boys are her sons. She’s a formidable dwarrowdam, takes after our mother in her manner and bearing. Dis does not tolerate fools, and the nobles tend to wind up being her favorite target during events that force us under the same roof with them.”

“She sounds a bit like my mother,” Hawthorn said with a smile. “Mama had the grace of a Baggins but the ferocity of a Took. After we came back from Rivendell the first time and found out that everyone knew the full extent of my injuries, she went after anyone who whispered anything negative about me. The ones who used ‘halfling’ in reference to me met with Mama’s cast iron frying pan more often than not.”

“I think she and my sister would have gotten along too well,” Thorin said with a soft laugh. “And your father?”

“Papa was a Baggins through and through, but he had a bit of Took fire in him too. He would have denied it since he had no wish to present himself as anything but a respectable and loving father, but I do know he defended me several times. Most of the time, he would let Mama go after them while taking me aside to let me talk about what was going on and to make sure I understood that none of it was my fault. Of the two, he was the healer and scholar. As a fauntling, I would go to him whenever I had accidents during my times playing outside. Mama would be the one encouraging my playtime adventures and even designing some for me.”

“Both of your parents sound like they were honorable and caring people,” he told her. “I wish I had been able to meet them.”

“I do too,” Hawthorn answered, looking over at a rose bush for a moment to compose herself. “They would be happy to know I found my cariad. Both of them went on to Yavanna’s Gardens afraid I would spend my life alone. I hope Lady Yavanna will be kind enough to let them know that you and I found each other; I don’t want to think of them worrying about me when they should be enjoying each other and the Gardens.”

Thorin gently rested his hand over hers where it was laying on his arm, sending what reassurance and comfort he could through touch alone. He understood the pain of missing family, and he hoped that his and hers knew that the two of them had found each other and would be just fine.

The two walked for a while longer before going in to dinner, and Thorin pulled out a chair for her that was to the left of his own. He wasn’t sure if she would know the significance of this position, but he would pay her honor and ensure she was seated at his left anytime they shared a meal.

The company, who were all sitting at the table in the elvish dining room, all noticed where she had been placed. As he took his seat, he could see their eyes focus on the braid he had put in her hair earlier but none of them said a word. The dwarf lord was grateful for their restraint, knowing that tradition had them holding their tongues for the moment, and he set about ensuring Hawthorn had the choicest portions of the food before serving himself.

The meal passed with pleasant conversation, and both Thorin and Hawthorn were both rather quiet during most of it as they listened to the company chatter while enjoying the meal their hosts had provided. The monarch was quick to note that while she didn’t smile much outside of the very small one, her eyes would gleam with merriment whenever Bofur, Fili, or Kili would crack a joke or tell a story that was outrageously silly. Her life in the Shire had tried to break her, not allowing her to truly let her express how she was feeling, but it hadn’t taken away the expressiveness of those blue eyes. Looking at them now, Thorin could truly understand what people mean when they say the eyes were the windows to the soul.

The sign that she hadn’t been truly broken by her circumstances and the cruelty of the people of her native lands gave Thorin hope. He promised himself that he would find a way to help her be able to sing and laugh without restraint once more, and the dwarf was not above including his company in that mission. He knew she had endeared herself to the group with her gentle nature and the kindness she bestowed up on all of them.

Thorin kept his focus on his One even while answering the questions thrown at him by his sister-sons or friends; he ensured her glass was filled when needed or she was given the dishes she enjoyed. It was a duty of care that was part of tending to the One Mahal gifted to His dwarrow, and it was a joy to take part in. He and his nephews did this for Dis, but it was different taking care of his One and had a distinct feeling he would be spoiling her as much as she would allow. Knowing his nephews and cousins, it was distinctly possible they would also be tending to the duty of care when he could not and he was pleased with that knowledge.

Once the meal was over, the company retired to the area where their allocated rooms were and Oin made the announcement about the courtship. Thorin had expected the cheers and smiled, accepting congratulations as they were given. He watched as his sister-sons approached his One, knowing they were not planning mischief for once.

“We want to congratulate you, Miss Hawthorn,” Fili began, smiling brightly at the hobbit lass. “Our family is so greatly honored by your acceptance of uncle’s courtship.”

“Mum will be thrilled,” Kili chirped, smiling just as happily as his brother. “She’s been hoping for the longest time that uncle would meet his One; she wants a sister badly.”

“I have always wanted a sibling as well,” Hawthorn admitted quietly. “So I hope that I will get to meet her once this is over and find that we will get along amicably.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that, Miss Hawthorn,” the brunet assured her. “You have a lot of strength and courage, and those are traits our mother respects in spades. She’s going to be so happy once she gets Uncle Thorin’s letter.”

The dwarf lord hid a flinch, knowing he would need to write his sister tomorrow or he would be facing the dwarrowdam’s wrath if she discovered this through another’s words and not his. Dis’s temper was something to be feared, and he did not want anything to color this happy time. He would ensure to write the letter tomorrow and send it off as swiftly as he could.

“Do I need to write her,” Hawthorn asked, tilting her head slightly as she looked up at the two dwarrow standing in front of her seat.

“Mum might enjoy that,” Fili commented. “Uncle could have it sent along with his if you wish or you can wait until we reach Erebor. This way she has time to get used to the idea that her brother has finally found his One as well as recover from the shock that he didn’t need someone breaking a shield over his head to convince him to court you.”

“I’ll see what Thorin thinks,” she answered. “Giving her time to adjust would be proper, especially since I’m sure she’ll have questions for him.”

“Without a doubt,” the blond laughed. “In the meantime, Miss Hawthorn, we are at your service. As you are uncle’s One, we will see to the duty of care when uncle cannot.”

With that, the two dwarrow left and Thorin spotted the look of confusion on her face. He made a mental note to have Balin explain things tomorrow while he took care of the letter for his sister. The dwarf lord knew there would be quite a few habits she would notice now that he and Hawthorn were courting, and it was best to have her prepared so she would not feel uncomfortable by what would be going on around her.

Thorin gave a content sigh, listening to his company celebrate and quietly thanked Mahal for the gift He had given him. He couldn’t wait to continue with the courtship and woo Hawthorn as they went further on the journey to Erebor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note - Announcement is made, and the company is happy for them. Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you thought of the chapter! See you next Wednesday. ~ Laran


	16. Lessons on Dwarrow Culture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – Wow, just wow! The response to the last chapter was just incredible. I can’t thank all of you enough for your kind words of support, enthusiasm, and enjoyment. All of you are amazing people, and I appreciate each and every one of you. 
> 
> Once again, the concept of “duty of care” was thought of by the amazing author, Bead, who has graciously allowed me to borrow it. If you’re on AO3 and haven’t read her works, please go do so because her writing is fabulous. I’m addicted to her Hobbit stories.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story. I’m just having fun playing with the universe Tolkien created.

The next morning, after breakfast and sword lessons, Balin sent the others on their way and gently guided the hobbit to a quiet area in the garden so they could talk. Thorin had stopped him last night after Hawthorn had retired for the night and had asked if the adviser could explain things about what the lass would expect from this point forward. The king-in-exile had assumed that she would have a lot of questions, and the older dwarf was ready to answer what he could.

Once they were seated on a bench in the shade of a very large tree, Balin turned to face her and gave the lass a gentle smile.

“You had quite a bit happen yesterday,” he began. “Thorin realized that you might have questions for me, and there’s things I should tell you about what to expect from here on out.”

“I do have questions,” she replied quietly. “Firstly, what did Fili and Kili mean by duty of care?”

“It’s a tradition handed down over the centuries,” Balin explained. “Because women are so rare in our race, we have devoted ourselves to the comfort and care of those females Mahal has chosen to grace our families with. By no means does it mean that our women cannot take care of themselves, but it allows us the opportunity to show just how grateful we are that they are a part of our family.

“When we approach duty of care, we do this in many ways from big to little. Simple things such as ensuring her favorite foods or drink is close at hand, taking care of her if she is ill or injured, surprising her with trinkets or treats, and simply listening when she has need of it. Anything to show that we value and love her. For example, I know Kili has surprised his mother more than once by cooking their evening meal while Fili drew her a bath to help her relax when they knew she had a very difficult day between work and helping Thorin with governing Ered Luin.”

“And all the men in the family do this, even if it’s just courting?”

“They do,” he replied. “There will be times when Thorin may be called away, and the rest of us will ensure your health and happiness in the meantime. Since he is now your father, do not be surprised by Oin doing things of this nature from this point out. Gloin, as your uncle, will do the same, and I know Gimli will enjoy spoiling you too from time to time. He’s been begging his parents for a little sister and to have a first cousin who is a girl will make him incredibly happy.”

“I don’t need spoiling,” she objected softly, blinking when Balin refuted that comment.

“Lass, you deserve it more than anyone I know. You took in thirteen dwarrow, fed them and made them feel welcome and at home for the first time that any of us can remember. Despite hurting, you never complained and pitched in anytime you thought you could help. You always have a kind word for all of us, even when I know the lads get on your nerves at times, and I have seen you stand up for Ori when Fili and Kili go a bit too far in their pranking. Trust me, Miss Hawthorn, you are deserving of every kindness we can bestow on you.”

Hawthorn nodded at that comment, chewing her lower lip to try to keep the tears away. She now remembered her papa doing sweet things like this for her mama and her, often saying he had to keep his flower queen and princess happy. It had been a memory she had tucked away in order to keep the pain away, and the actions of the company as well as Balin’s words had brought that memory back. 

“Thorin’s people have accepted Fili and Kili as his heirs? There’s been no cry for him to have sons of his own,” she asked, wanting to pull away from the happy but painful memories that were playing in her thoughts.

“The children of a brother or sister can be chosen as heirs; it’s an accepted tradition amongst our people since not all of us are fortunate enough to have children,” he told her, unsure as to why she asked that but not questioning.

She continued chewing her lip for several long moments, then brought up something that had been bothering her since she had retired to her chambers the night before.

“Will they accept a hobbit wife for their king?”

“When you two wed, you will find a mixed response from the people of Erebor and the other six clans in Middle Earth,” he answered truthfully. “Finding your One is something that is deeply respected and never outright challenged. I expect a great many of the dwarrow will be pleased for Thorin and will pray for his continued happiness. Others will not be pleased and may try to cause difficulties, but that will be a minority and something we can handle.”

Seeing the look of concern on her face, Balin reached out and rested a hand over hers.

“Trust us, Miss Hawthorn, everything will be all right. No one will question your right to be at Thorin’s side.”

“I will try not to worry,” Hawthorn told him. “I just know that some people can be difficult over marriages where the couple is not of the same race, and I have no wish for Thorin to have more to worry over as I know Erebor will require a great deal of his attention.”

She let out a deep sigh, looking over at the dwarf. Though she was determined to follow through with the courtship, a part of her wondered what Yavanna had been thinking when She had created her and Thorin to be cariads.

“What else will I need to know?”

Balin carefully explained everything he could think of regarding courting, speaking of courtship gifts as well as what would be expected of her. The idea of her place being at Thorin’s left side made sense in two ways. One, it was easier for him to defend her if necessary without putting her at risk when he drew a weapon. Second, the left side was where the heart was and it showed everyone that she was the one who had been crafted to hold his heart from this moment forward.

She listened to everything the adviser had to say, knowing she would be expected to follow the roles as best as she could. Balin promised to explain betrothal and wedding traditions at a later date, wanting her to be able to enjoy being courted without worrying about what would come next. It was a decision she appreciated a great deal.

“So courtship gifts are created by our own hands,” she asked quietly, fingers twisting together as she contemplated what needed to be done.

“Crafting gifts can be viewed as an act of devotion and is seen to be the best for courting,” Balin assured her.

“Can it be any craft?”

“What are you thinking, lass,” he asked, hoping to alleviate the anxiety that was showing on her face.

“One of the things I can do fairly well is cook,” Hawthorn admitted. “I’m not sure if it should be a treat or a full dinner, but hobbits use food as a chance for celebration and bonding.”

“Cooking him something would certainly count as a gift since it is a craft,” he told her, making her brighten somewhat. “You have an idea?”

“I do,” she said. “If you and Fili don’t mind, I would like to take tomorrow morning off so I can spend it in the kitchen. Part of hobbit courtships are chaperoned picnics, and I think I’d like to share in that with Thorin tomorrow afternoon.”

“I think that’s a grand idea,” Balin told her, smiling at her. “In fact, I’ll make sure Dwalin runs interference so none of the company gets the idea of interfering while you are on this picnic. I’ll speak to Gloin later today so he’ll know what you have planned.”

“Do you happen to know what Thorin’s favorite foods are?”

“Anything with strawberries,” the adviser said with a laugh. “Most dwarrow enjoy fruit, but I happen to know strawberries are his favorite. He enjoys most meat dishes except for liver. He has spoken very highly of the bread you offered him during the ritual welcome to your smial. Thorin said, several times, that he has not had anything like that before. So if you have time for that, I have a feeling it would be savored tomorrow.”

Hawthorn blushed, looking happy at his words. She’d not heard any kind of comment about that bread, but she had noticed it had disappeared quickly during the meal at her smial. It had been a recipe she had created as a fauntling, and it pleased her to know that Thorin had enjoyed it so much.

“Thank you for telling me, Balin,” the hobbit said, still pink cheeked. “Also, thank you for explaining everything to me. It helps knowing what’s expected of me during the courtship.”

“You are most welcome, and feel free to find me if you have more questions. Gloin would also be someone to talk to if you can’t find me since he went through similar when courting his wife.”

“I will,” she answered, glad to have someone to speak to about all of this. “Balin, I appreciate all of this. I do have one more question for you if you have time?”

“I do,” he said, glad that she trusted him enough to ask her questions.

“Now that I am a master in the Scrivener’s Guild, what will be expected of me?”

Balin chuckled, then explained that she would be asked to help keep track of meetings, write up formal letters if asked by the king or certain nobles, as well as aiding in the restoration of the library. All in all, it was almost everything Thorin had spoken about when he’d offered for her to stay in Erebor since he knew her skills would be in high demand. For the moment, it would be just her, Balin, and Ori carrying the bulk of the duties.

“Of course, once you are married, your duties will shift somewhat to accommodate the duties expected of Thorin’s queen,” he continued. “You will have time to work in the library, if you should wish to, but you will most likely be freed from note-taking and potentially letter writing.”

“If we are still short of scribes by that time, I will continue to do those duties until we have enough scribes in the mountain,” Hawthorn insisted. “It’s my hope that the people of Ered Luin will be safe in Erebor before that happens.”

“Knowing Thorin’s sister, I imagine she will be clearing the colony out as soon as she receives word of our success,” he said with a chuckle. “Before we left, Thorin, Dis, and I came up with strategies on bringing our people home. The only difficulties lie in protecting our elderly and children.”

“Contact the Dúnedain,” the hobbit told him. “The rangers are good people and would do all they can to keep the ones who can’t defend themselves safe. They’re not elves so it shouldn’t be a problem with your people, and I think they would be willing to aid your dwarrow once you contact the chieftain.”

“We hadn’t given thought to asking them,” Balin commented. “I’m not sure how to contact them if Thorin agrees to your idea.”

“Lord Elrond would know how to do so,” she answered. “His twin sons often lend their aid when the Dúnedain have need of assistance, and I trust the rangers. There was an agreement between them and the King of Arnor, I believe, and they protect the Shire from any outside attack. The Thain sends supplies so they won’t have to live off of the land but otherwise, there’s no payment for doing this that I know of.”

“Which speaks of a kind hearted people to aid those in need,” the adviser murmured. “I think I will go look for Thorin now and tell him of your suggestion. If he agrees, we will need to make arrangements while we are still in Rivendell. Thank you for that suggestion, Miss Hawthorn.”

“You’re most welcome,” Hawthorn told him. “And please, call me Hawthorn. We are friends now, and I would prefer less formality between us. You can pass that along the company too if you would please?”

“I certainly will, Hawthorn,” Balin said, rising to his feet and giving her a small bow. “Please excuse me and enjoy your afternoon.”

With that, the dwarf went in search of his king. Balin was grateful for the lass for many reasons. She had certainly helped the company and their people with her ideas, and he couldn’t wait to see how she would contribute to governing Erebor as Thorin’s queen.

Hawthorn watched him go, emotions rather mixed in regards to everything they had spoken about. She sighed, heading inside to find her Calon-Tad working with a mortar and pestle as he made more ointments for the journey ahead. He looked up at just the right moment, spotting the expression on her face, and patted the spot beside him on the bench.

“What’s troubling you, my lass?”

“I’m confused,” she answered, realizing she was on the side where he could hear better. “Balin assures me that there shouldn’t be too much trouble with Thorin and I being each other’s cariad, but I keep wondering if this is the right thing.”

“The scent came to you,” he pointed out. “Which means you know Thorin is your One.”

“Yes but I’m not the best choice for that, am I? I can’t have children, and I have issues with walking without pain most days. Thorin deserves someone who isn’t broken,” she told him, looking so miserable.

“Hawthorn, do not ever call yourself broken again,” Oin said firmly, setting his tools down and turning on the bench so he could see his daughter’s face clearly. “Not every dwarrowdam can forge a bairn, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of in that. You’re measuring yourself by the standards of the people you grew up with, and those standards are wrong. 

“You are in possession of your wits and intelligence; you work hard and are kind to those who cross your path. You’re a talented scribe and musician with a voice of mithril. Who cares if your leg acts up? It’s a wound from battle, and those are held as honorable amongst dwarrow. You won’t be the first in the line of Durin with injuries that can hinder you.”

“What do you mean, Calon-Tad,” Hawthorn asked, chewing her lower lip.

“We have a cousin, Dain of the Iron Hills. Lad lost his leg in battle and uses a prosthetic so he can move around. He limps but is a bastard to fight in the training ring. It’s how he got the name Ironfoot, and he is proud of it.

“I’m deaf in one ear, but I haven’t let that slow me down either. I don’t just heal people, my lass; I also fight alongside my kin. I just rely on my kin to ensure that no one can sneak up on me. You just have to learn to rely on your kin too; trust us, little topaz, and we won’t let you fall.”

“I do trust you,” she admitted. “It’s just difficult because of what I’ve heard for so long. I keep doubting myself and with the knowledge Thorin is my cariad, those doubts are a lot louder than usual.”

“Being a member of the royal family is a lot of responsibility,” Oin commented, patting her hand for a moment. “Your old injuries are marks of courage and considering how long you’ve been listening to the shite hurled at you in the Shire, it’s no wonder you don’t see it as we do. All I ask is keep a clear mind and tell one of us if those doubts get too loud, all right? We’ll help you see the truth of it, but we can’t if you hide this from us.”

“I’ll try,” the hobbit promised, wiping away the tears that tried to form.

“Good,” the healer told her. “I understand things better than most because I’m so hard of hearing so don’t hesitate to come to me if you need it. Like I said, disabilities can be worked around and we’ll make sure you’re able to stand strong alongside your kin.”

“Thank you, Calon-Tad,” Hawthorn said, voice just loud enough for him to hear.

“No thanks necessary, little topaz,” he replied, squeezing her hand gently for a moment. “Feel any better?”

“I do; I guess I needed to talk about it,” she answered. “Though I have to ask, little topaz?”

“Topazes are stones that come in a variety of colors,” Oin chuckled. “They’re one of my favorite stones because of how beautifully the light shines through it, just like you. Add to that, your eyes are the shade of a set of topaz jewelry my mother used to wear. I think it suits you.”

She smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek. The nickname was one that warmed her heart, and Hawthorn was proud to have it. If he believed she represented his favorite gemstone, then she would not argue. In truth, it had been a long time since she’d been given a pet name and little topaz was a nice one to answer to.

Hawthorn stayed close to her adopted father’s side for the rest of the day, learning about his craft and sharing what she knew about herbs. It was part of her legacy from him, and she would do all she could to honor him. Oin understood her, and that was a priceless gift she was determined to cherish for the rest of her days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note - I hope you all got a bit more understanding of the characters and a bit of dwarrow culture. Thanks for reading; please let me know what you thought of it! ~ Laran


	17. Courting Picnic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – I’m glad I have chapters stockpiled because if I’d had to write this today, it wouldn’t be as light hearted as it is. For those who have been waiting to find out, I got the results from my disability hearing today. I was told no so as soon as I got home from the post office, I called my lawyer and spoke with his assistant. She told me that he would read the papers from the judge and then write a brief to appeal the decision. He’s got sixty days to get it done, and I really hope he’ll do it sooner than that. Please keep me in your thoughts because I’m really struggling to stay upbeat and this has got to end favorably for me.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story!

Hawthorn had spent the entire morning in the kitchen to prepare the courting gift of food for the picnic, cooking and baking the hours away, and she hummed softly to herself as she prepared the basket to carry out to meet Thorin and Gloin. She knew that her cariad had been busy since her conversation with Balin. He had been cloistered with his sister-sons and Balin for a while before requesting a meeting with Elrond the night before.

The meeting with Elrond had taken place taken place this morning, and she hoped that everything had gone smoothly. The last thing she wanted was for something to go wrong. Too much really hung on this quest, and their time here would potentially help with rebuilding the kingdom. 

Once the food was done and everything packed away, she carefully carried it back to her room and cleaned up, choosing a dress from the many that had been waiting for her when she’d arrived. Elrond enjoyed doting on her, and she knew Arwen often aided him in ensuring she had pretty things to wear when she visited.

Today, Hawthorn chose a dark blue dress that had been made in the elvish styles with long flowing sleeves. The hems were embroidered with hawthorn blossoms in silver and as she stared at herself in the mirror, a part of her wondered if Thorin would like how she looked.

Today, she’d left her hair down, except for the three braids she’d been given, and it flowed to her waist in rich tawny colored curls. Usually, the hobbit didn’t keep her hair down but today, she had felt like a change.

Hawthorn was pulled from her thoughts when she heard a knock on her door and her uncle’s voice greeting her. With a small smile, she went to open it and found him waiting in the hallway for her.

“There you are, lass. I had thought to find you in the kitchens but was told you had come here to clean up,” he said, smiling at her. “You look lovely, little topaz. Are you ready to go?”

“I am,” Hawthorn answered. “Where is Thorin?”

Gloin spotted the picnic basket and retrieved it before she could try to pick it up, offering his free arm to her so she could have something to lean against if she needed it.

“He and I found a nice spot for your picnic, and he’s setting everything up. We will be meeting him there,” the red haired dwarf told her. “I know your father and I haven’t had time to say much about this, but we are very pleased you found your One. Thorin is a good dwarf, and he will love and honor you for the rest of your days together. We’re rather happy with the fact he is your One since it will keep you close to us given he’s our cousin.”

Hawthorn went on tip toe, kissing his cheek. His approval meant a great deal even though he hadn’t been her uncle for long.

“Thank you, Uncle Gloin. It means a lot to me that you and Calon-Tad approve,” she told him, using the paternal name that she had not used for Bungo so as to keep the relationships unique between the two men who were her fathers.

“You’re welcome, Hawthorn,” he replied, guiding them out of the main building and out into the gardens. 

Gloin led them to a small area in the gardens that was not widely used; there was a small creek pouring over stones to create several small waterfalls. Trees lined the creek, casting a nice shaded area over lush grass.

Thorin had spread out a large blanket and had placed plenty of cushions on it, seeing to her comfort, and Hawthorn gave him a small smile as they approached. He had chosen a lovely spot, and the picnic site was set up so she would not feel any pain while seated on the ground.

“Thorin, it’s beautiful,” she called to him as they approached.

“Not as beautiful as you look today, Hawthorn, but I am pleased you approve,” he smiled back, offering his hand and helping her to sit on a soft cushion. “If you need more cushions, let me know. I have no wish for your leg and hip to play up while we enjoy our time together.”

“Thank you,” Hawthorn told him, getting comfortable before accepting the basket from her uncle. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Ravenous,” the dwarf lord replied as he and Gloin made themselves comfortable on the blanket. “The meeting with Lord Elrond lasted longer than I expected.”

“How did it go,” she asked, opening the basket and setting out the containers of food she had prepared. 

“Much better than I expected,” Thorin shared with the two of them as he watched her open the containers. He accepted the bottles of wine and cider to open and pour into glasses for them to enjoy.

“How so?”

“Apparently, he already knew of our quest and despite his obvious misgivings, he said he knew this was important and had to happen. Tharkûn told me later that the elf has the gift of foresight, which explains how he knew what was going on.”

The dwarf lord handed Gloin a glass of wine, setting Hawthorn’s glass of cider next to her while he continued explaining what happened during the meeting.

“Since he has some knowledge of what is to come and knows that we need help, Elrond said that he would do all he can to ensure the success of the mountain once we reclaim it. He’ll be sending a message with us to hopefully ease any problems with the damned elf king, and he told me that he would make arrangements with the Dúnedain to ensure my people get from Ered Luin to Erebor safely.

“He will also send supplies with them to help ensure our people have food to last us for winter and early spring, and he said he wants to negotiate a treaty for trade and alliance once the mountain is ours again.”

“That’s fabulous news,” Hawthorn told him, handing him a plate that held battered chicken that had been fried, mashed potatoes, and salad. When she offered him the basket with bread in it, he realized what it was and looked at her.

“Is this the bread from the night in your smial?”

“It is; Balin said you enjoyed it so I wanted to make it for us today,” she replied quietly, handing Gloin a full plate as well. “Also, try the salad. I made the dressing for it and hopefully, you two will like it.”

Thorin was the first of them to try it, forking up a mouthful and taking a bite. His eyes widened for a moment, chewing eagerly and swallowing.

“You put strawberries in the dressing? It works so well and isn’t too sweet; the vegetables don’t taste like leaves!”

The comment surprised a loud giggle from her, the first sound of unrestrained laughter they had heard from her since meeting the lass. Her own eyes were wide as she pressed a trembling hand to her heart.

“I’m glad you like it,” she managed, voice very soft. “What do you think, uncle?”

“He’s right, lassie. This doesn’t taste like leaves at all. I think you’d even get Dwalin and Ori to eat this, and you know how they are about green food,” he drawled, eyes dancing with merriment.

“I might bring some to dinner tonight since they always serve salads along with the meals,” she suggested, eyes showing her delight when both dwarves nodded and insisted she do so.

Hawthorn watched them eat, nibbling on her own food, and giggled again when Thorin defended the bread she had baked for today when Gloin tried to take the last small loaf. Apparently, he was more than fond of that particular recipe and she hoped she would have the ability to bake this for him again. It felt amazing to know she now had someone to cook for and take care of.

Once the main courses had been eaten, she pulled out the cake she had baked as well. The hobbit cut three pieces, dousing them with sweet cream and strawberry sauce before handing them to her uncle and Thorin. She didn’t take a bite of hers until they had each tried it, feeling happy at the looks of awe on their faces.

“You like it?”

“Aye, this is fantastic. When my wife arrives at Erebor, can you please give her the recipe?”

“That one I can,” she said to her uncle, looking over at Thorin.

“This is amazing, Hawthorn. The strawberries in the cake help cuts the sweetness. Balin must have told you I like strawberries,” the dwarf lord asked.

“He did when I asked him what your favorite foods were,” Hawthorn answered. “I enjoy strawberries too, and hobbits often use fruit in their baking. It’s also why I added it to the salad dressing. They’re sweet and tart so they complement a lot of different foods.”

“Everything you have made is delicious,” Thorin said, giving her a smile. “Thank you so much for this courting gift.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied. “I’m just happy you enjoyed it so much. I do have a question; will I have access to a kitchen of some sort when we reach Erebor?”

“If the King’s Hall hasn’t been damaged too much, you should have access to a kitchen of your own fairly swiftly. Every suite in the Hall has its own kitchen,” he told her. “If I remember correctly, each one is rather spacious and allows for cooking for large gatherings. For those who don’t have time to cook, the hall has a royal kitchen to cater to the people living within the hall.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said. “I enjoy cooking when I feel up to it, and it’ll be nice having family to cook for again. I used to cook with Mama and Papa when I was a fauntling, and it’s not been enjoyable having to cook for myself.”

“Just don’t expect Fili or Thorin to cook,” Gloin laughed. “The two are disasters in the kitchen. Dis lets them wash dishes, nothing else.”

“That bad?”

“Worse, Fili set fire to the kitchen twice and Thorin gave the family food poisoning three times before Dis banned them from food preparation. Kili, fortunately, inherited his mother’s ability to cook so the family wouldn’t starve whenever she was too busy to prepare meals,” the red haired male snickered, ducking a swat from his cousin.

“Everyone has accidents in the kitchen when learning how to cook, but I don’t think I ever did that while learning,” she admitted, looking wide eyed. “I only ruined the bottom of Mama’s favorite sauce pan because I got distracted by a book Papa had brought home from Bree.”

“So no books in the kitchen except cook books,” Thorin asked, laughing when she threw a napkin at his head and then Gloin’s for laughing at the king’s teasing comment.

“Pests! I am surrounded by pests,” she exclaimed, shaking her head as the laughter grew in intensity.

It felt good making them laugh, and Hawthorn hoped and prayed moments like this would come more often as time went by. Thorin deserved to smile and laugh, and she truly wanted to see the lines of sorrow and stress be replaced by those caused by joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – Since I am using Welsh for Hobbitish, I will be using Calon-Tad for Oin when Hawthorn speaks of or to him. It means heart-father, which I felt would be appropriate considering their building relationship. Again, I used several sites to verify the words so if it’s wrong, please tell me since English is my primary language! Welsh is one I’d love to learn; it looks gorgeous! The sauce pan incident actually happened to me in real life. Part of my health issue is that I tend to forget things during bad days (foggy days) and in high school, I started making tea and forgot the pan was on the stove. Fortunately, I didn’t start a fire but the pan had to be thrown out. Mama wasn’t happy with me, but she was grateful I at least tried to do something nice for her for when she got home since she loved drinking iced tea. Back in those days, I didn’t cook…at all. LOL!!! Please let me know what you thought of the chapter, and thank you for reading. See you all next week. ~ Laran


	18. Readings and Departures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – You guys really surprised me with how you enjoyed the last chapter. Thank you so much for your amazing responses; you guys really helped me through a stressful week!
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make money from this story. All characters belong to Tolkien and his estate.

Over the next few weeks, if Hawthorn wasn’t training or in the library, she was spending time with Thorin and whoever was chaperoning them that day. She was learning quite a bit about her cariad and was enjoying the opportunity to go through some of the courtship without the quest hanging over their heads. The hobbit could tell that he was pleased to have the time without the stress and worry of the quest too, and it gave her time to see him for who he truly was without the tension weighing him down.

When it came time for the map to be read, Thorin asked if she would go with them and she was happy to do so. The scholar was anxious to see what the moon runes said; she’d been very curious about them since she’d discovered their presence.

Lord Elrond escorted Gandalf, Thorin, Hawthorn, and Balin to a small cave that was open to the sky. He was handed the map and carefully set it down on the large quartz podium. After a few moments, the clouds parted so the moon could shine down upon the group. The hobbit went on tiptoe, trying to get the right angle so she could see the writing appear.

The elf read the translation of the ancient khuzdul runes, then looked towards Thorin with a look of concern on his face.

“Durin’s day quickly approaches,” he told the king-in-exile. “I will ensure you have enough provisions to see you to the other side of the Misty Mountains. There are allies there who can restock your provisions once you reach their homes.”

“Your assistance will be greatly appreciated,” the king-in-exile replied. “Thank you for translating the map for us.” 

“You are most welcome. In the meantime, you and your company will need to slip away tonight before dawn,” the elf lord told him. “While I understand that your quest has the blessings of the Valar, there are others who would seek to stop you and I will not see that happen. Mithrandir and I will stall them during a meeting; once I know that your departure will not be noticed, someone will come to escort you to the exit closest to the Misty Mountains.”

“We will be waiting in the alcove near the rooms you have given us,” Thorin informed the other. “You have my thanks for all of the aid you have given us and for the aid promised to us.”

“Keep her safe,” Elrond told him, slipping into khuzdul so as not to alert Hawthorn to the fact the conversation now included her. “Keep her safe and happy, and that will be all of the thanks I will need. She is special to my heart and to my family.”

“You have my oath on that,” the king-in-exile swore, placing a hand on his heart.

“Thank you,” the elf stated, switching back to Westron. “I shall alert my staff to ensure all of the supplies are given to you now so you can pack for your departure before nightfall.”

As they spoke, Hawthorn picked up the map and folded it carefully, handing it to Thorin. He took it with a smile, then offered her his arm as the group exited the cavern where the reading had taken place.

“You will need to get your packing done and bring everything to the alcove,” he said to her softly as they headed back to where the company’s rooms were. “We’ll try to rest before it’s time to leave the valley.”

“Agreed,” Hawthorn answered in a voice that was just as soft. “I suspect the White Council has been called and if I am right, Saruman will be the one who will attempt to stop the quest if he hears of it. Lady Galadriel has a stronger gift of foresight, and she might also have seen what Lord Elrond has and would not try to hinder the quest if she has been given visions from the Valar.”

“I know little of the White Wizard,” the king-in-exile told her. “He is the one chosen by Mahal to do His work here on Arda. Other than that, not much is known of him.”

“Most people don’t know even that,” she replied. “It’s odd that he was chosen by Mahal when he has little to no respect for those who are not elves or Istari. I’ve heard Glorfindel and Erestor speak of him, and they’ve made references to conversations where they had overheard Saruman speak poorly of others, including members of the Istari. He doesn’t sound like he’s a very nice person so I’m happy my path has never crossed with his.”

“It makes me wonder why Mahal chose him if he has such an issue with those who are different from himself. We’re a race of crafters, taught by a master craftsman, and we see beauty in almost everything,” Thorin shared. “You would think our Maker’s representative would see things as we do.” 

“Even in elves,” she asked, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Rivendell elves maybe,” he answered, lightly tugging on one of her braids. “You can’t convince me that Thranduil and his ilk have a use in this world.”

“I’ll have to get back to you on that,” the hobbit answered. Her discussions about Thranduil with some of the elves here she called friends had pretty much colored her opinion about the king of Mirkwood, and she was not looking forward to going through that area once the company entered Rhovanion.

The trio stopped at the intersection where her rooms were located, and she parted from them fairly swiftly to head into her rooms to pack. Hawthorn headed down the hallway, mind racing in several different directions. She was abruptly pulled from her thoughts when she ran into someone.

It was only due to her quick reflexes that she managed to keep upright, and Hawthorn looked up to spot the Istar she had been discussing with Thorin not a few moments ago.

“My apologies,” she stated, frowning when he sneered at her and headed down the hall. 

“Erestor was right,” the hobbit murmured to herself as she entered her room. “He does have a staff embedded up his arse. Glad Mithrandir isn’t like that or we’d have shoved him into a pile of horse dung to teach him humility.”

Hawthorn packed her bags, ensuring everything was ready, and she headed to the alcove where the company had been spending their time when not crafting, training, or exploring. Thorin took her bag from her, frowning slightly when he saw the expression on her face.

“What happened?”

“I literally ran into Saruman on the way to my room,” she answered, walking with him to where cushions had been piled. “I have no idea why Mahal chose him, but I was ready to knock him upside the head given how he looked at me.”

“Elrond was right to be worried then,” he said softly.

“I think so,” Hawthorn commented. “I also had an idea come to me while packing. I know Balin keeps the books for the scrivener’s guild with him to safeguard them, but there’s a risk of losing those. My belongings from the Shire will be delivered here for safekeeping. Since we’re courting now and know that we are cariads, I will ask Lord Elrond to have them delivered to Erebor. Anything important that the company has with them and are afraid of losing during the quest can be left behind in my room to be brought with my things so nothing gets lost on the journey.”

“That’s a good idea,” Thorin commented, helping her to sit down before going to talk to Balin.

Within a few moments, Ori and Kili were sent with a small stack of items to put in Hawthorn’s room while the hobbit left a message with an elf to ask if those items could be sent along with her own belongings once she was ready for them. She was pleased to be able to help a bit further and checked her pack, finding the few items she’d copied for the journey as well as a letter for Thranduil from Elrond.

“You might want to try to rest for a while,” Gloin suggested, passing her a blanket from the room he’d been using. “Thorin said earlier we’ll be leaving late tonight, and it’ll be better to get some rest so you’re alert when we go.” 

“I’ll try,” she answered, taking the warm item from him. “It’s a good suggestion.”

Hawthorn snuggled into the blanket, getting comfortable on the cushions as she did so. It didn’t take long before she drifted off to sleep, unaware that the rest of the group quieted down so as not to wake those who had decided to take a rest as well.

She was woken hours later and handed a plate of food, which she promptly started eating. Hawthorn could see the others packing the final odds and ends away, getting ready for the next phase of their journey. A few elves were handing them supplies, offering what aid Elrond could give them.

Once the food had been eaten and all of the supplies put away, the company shouldered their packs and followed their guide out of the main building, through several intricate gardens before being led to the entrance that would take them to the Misty Mountains.

“May Valar watch over you and keep you safe,” their guide stated, bidding them farewell before heading back.

Thorin looked over the members of his company, noticing all of them looked eager to go, and he was grateful that all of them had answered when he had called. He was even more grateful that Gandalf had recommended Hawthorn to them as she had done so much for them already.

“Let’s get going; Durin’s Day approaches, and we have a long journey ahead of us.”

With that, the company left Rivendell and headed towards the Misty Mountains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note - It’s shorter than the other chapters, but it’s a transition one to help the company move forward as well as set up for something that will appear later in the story. I hope everyone enjoyed it; please let me know what you thought of it. See you next time! ~ Laran


	19. The Misty Mountains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – Now that we’re out of Rivendell, we’ll be moving forward in other areas as well as romance. By the way, I received a request from a reader needing help on a research paper she’s doing for class. She has put together a poll for people to take regarding fan fiction – why we read and write it. I took it last week, and it’s short so please take the few moments needed to take the poll. It’d really help a student out. The link is here, please remember to take the spaces out since certain websites don’t like links. The poll will be open for a month or longer before she has to take it down. Thank you, everyone, for helping her! http: //www.survio. com/survey/d/A0X3G7B3E3X8T2M7Q 
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make money from this story.

The group traveled through what remained of the night and a good portion of the next day. They were at the foot of the mountains when Thorin called a halt, ordering them to set up camp. Hawthorn pulled off her pack before going to find firewood so they could be warm and fed tonight. She stacked up a fair amount, bringing it back so Gloin could get a fire going, and then went to gather more.

Ori fell in step beside her, loading himself up with wood as well. She gave him a small smile, focusing on her task.

“I think we made good progress today,” the dwarf commented. “It doesn’t seem like it because we’re on foot, but I spotted our position on the map Balin had when he and Thorin decided to check on where we currently are. We went further than I expected.”

“That’s good news,” she answered. “Truth be told, I dread crossing the mountains. I’ve never had to climb anything larger than the hills we have in the Shire, and it’s making me nervous.”

“You need to let Thorin and Oin know,” Ori told her. “This way everyone knows to keep an eye on you in case something happens.”

“I don’t wish to be a burden,” Hawthorn informed him, only to be cut off by the other.

“Helping a novice during her first trek across the mountains isn’t a burden; it’s a matter of safety. We don’t want anything happening to you,” he pointed out. “Traveling across mountain terrain isn’t always easy so having someone watch for you is a blessing, even with my over-protective brothers doing the watching.”

“All right, I will speak to them in a little while, I promise,” she answered, knowing he had her safety at heart.

“Thank you,” he chirped to her, giving her a smile that made her feel better.

The pair returned to camp, spotting a few others bringing firewood too. Hawthorn set her load down, then went to speak to Oin about the issue she was about to face. He listened to her for a moment before nodding, calling Thorin over.

“Is everything all right,” he asked, looking at the pair before Oin gestured at Hawthorn to speak.

“I told Calon-Tad that I’ve never climbed anything larger than the hills in the Shire,” she began. “Truth is, I’m rather anxious about crossing the mountains because I’ve never done this before and also worried about how my hip and leg will hold up.”

“The herbal mixture you were given in Rivendell, does it have any side effects,” the dwarf lord asked.

“Nothing outside of alleviating the pain and relaxing the muscles there when they get too tight, which contributes to the pain she had from the healed breaks in the bones,” Oin answered, having discussed this with the elven healer when Elrond had first given the new remedy to the hobbit. 

“If she takes it in the morning, it wouldn’t hinder her ability to safely move in the mountains?”

“It shouldn’t; she’s shown no signs of grogginess, dizziness, or impaired judgment when she’s taken it so she should be just fine,” the healer told him. “Elrond and I both kept an eye on that when she started taking it so we would know what side effects the new tonic. caused”

“Make sure to take it after breakfast,” Thorin suggested to her. “This way pain can be kept under control before it flares too badly and hinders your mobility. As far as your inexperience with mountain terrain, I would like you to stay between Gloin and Dwalin tomorrow. They can keep an eye on you in case the path we walk becomes too narrow or treacherous.

“We will not be rushing through this leg of our journey because mountain paths can be difficult even for the most experienced of travelers. If you find yourself having difficulty, Hawthorn, please let someone know so we can help you.”

“I will, Thorin, I promise,” she answered, feeling a little relieved when he smiled at her.

“Thank you,” he replied, escorting her to a small stone she could sit on with some comfort.

Like the others, he had realized that sitting on the ground made it difficult for her to rise so the company often tried to find a log or stone for her to sit on during the evening hours before it became time to sleep. Hawthorn had tried not to fuss over their actions and after the discussion about duty of care with Balin while in Imladris, she had finally accepted that they would try to see to her comfort as much as possible while on the journey.

“Thank you,” the hobbit said, watching as he went to fetch two plates from Bombur when the company’s cook called out their meal was ready.

Thorin returned a few moments later, handing her a plate of potatoes, sausage, and some vegetables she remembered the elves had insisted on them taking. She gave the dwarf a small smile, watching as he took a seat to her right, before starting to eat her meal.

The evening hours passed swiftly and pleasantly, and Hawthorn enjoyed it a great deal before resting. Her bedroll had been placed between her uncle and Calon-Tad, and she was grateful because the two dwarrow radiated heat. The wind was cold, and she knew it would only become more so as they began the climb through the mountains the next day. She took comfort in the presence of her heart family, sleeping fairly well before waking when Balin’s watch ended by calling for the group to rouse to start the day.

The journey resumed once breakfast was eaten and the camp was struck, and Hawthorn found herself walking with Dwalin in front of her and Gloin behind her. She felt a bit more relaxed but kept a sharp eye on where she put her feet as the path began to climb.

The company stayed on the path for several days, maintaining the order of the line throughout the day, but the journey became difficult when the weather changed. The temperature dropped, which was felt even more sharply when a storm broke. Wind and rain buffeted the group, and Hawthorn stayed as close as she dared to Dwalin and Gloin. Both steadied her when her feet slipped, ensuring she didn’t fall off of the path.

“Look out!”

The hobbit looked up, biting back a scream of terror when a large boulder came flying their direction. She pressed herself against the stone wall, ducking as much as she could, and the lass could feel two heavier forms pressing against her to try to protect her from the projectile.

“Take cover,” she heard Thorin bellow after Balin and Bofur both shouted something about this being a thunder battle.

Blue eyes widened, seeing the massive stone figures, and her voice barely drifted up to her two protectors through the din of the storm and fight.

“Storm-giants, blessed Yavanna watch over us please,” she pleaded, feeling terrified of what was going on around her.

“Come on, lass, we can’t stay here,” Dwalin said as he and Gloin nudged her to keep moving.

What followed seemed like something out of a nightmare as the stone beneath their feet came to life. She trusted her uncle and Dwalin, letting them help her out of danger, but she was utterly terrified as she made the jump to safety. Her heart ached when she heard Thorin scream out his nephew’s name, and the ache eased only when the missing dwarrow were soon revealed.

“Where’s Ori?”

Hawthorn’s heart jumped into her throat when someone called out they’d found him and realized he was clinging to the cliff, trying to find a foothold. It took a second to realize that there was no way to reach him by hand, and she poked Dwalin.

“Use this to pull him up,” the hobbit told him, handing her staff to the dwarf.

The bald male nodded, taking the staff and positioning himself properly to pull the scribe up. Dori stood behind him, bracing him when the end of the staff reached Ori so he could grab onto the wood and mithril weapon. Dwalin pulled the slight dwarf up with a roar, and Nori grabbed his brother once his feet hit the path and ensured he was pressed against the stone wall beside the path.

“Nice thinking,” Dwalin told Hawthorn, handing her the weapon back.

“Good job on getting him pulled up,” she answered, taking her staff with shaking hands. “This storm is getting worse.”

The warrior tilted his head, hearing a shout from ahead of the line and nodding. 

“Someone’s found a cave,” he told the lass. “We’ll be able to get out of this soon. Stay close to Gloin and me.”

“I would be a fool not to,” she told him, making him chuckle. “Someone once said hobbit feet could handle nearly any terrain; it makes me wonder if they were with the hobbits during their wandering days because I doubt they’d say that if they knew how poorly my feet are handling wet stone right now.”

“We’ll never know,” Dwalin answered, keeping a sharp eye on the battle raging around them.

A short while later, once Dwalin and a few others had examined the cave to ensure it was empty, Hawthorn found herself within the shelter that had been found. She set her pack on the stone floor, shivering as she did so. Oin noticed the motion and winced, touching her cheek to find her skin was too cool for his liking.

“Check to see if you can find a dry change of clothes in your pack,” he told his daughter. “Change and then wrap yourself up in your blankets to warm up. I don’t want you catching ill.”

Hawthorn found dry clothing to change into and did so once the company turned so that she had privacy to slip into the dry garments and place her throwing knives and dagger back into their proper places on her person. Once done, Dori helped spread her soaked cloak and coat out as well as her clothing to help it dry overnight. After she sat down, putting her sword and staff beside her, Gloin surprised her by pulling her hairpins out and undoing every braid except her courtship one and began combing through the heavy hair to help it dry.

She tucked the pins into her heavier coat pocket that she had donned earlier, knowing she would use it and her blankets to sleep in given how cold she was right now. She relaxed as her uncle continued to comb out her hair, redoing her family and guild braid before braiding the rest of it in a heavy braid to keep it out of her eyes. Once he was done, Thorin settled beside her and redid her courtship braid since it was looking rather messy compared to the work Gloin had done on the rest of her hair.

Dori gave her some jerky and cram to nibble on, and she barely managed to finish that before she fell asleep. The hobbit didn’t wake as Gloin and Thorin positioned her carefully on her bedroll, tucking her blankets snugly around her before going to their own bedrolls to try to rest.

The comment about odd blue light woke her, and she reached for her sheathed blade as well as her staff when she realized both her sword and Thorin’s were glowing. The hobbit tried to climb to her feet and only had time to scream once when the floor opened up beneath them, dropping the company into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note - :Ducks the flying vegetables and miscellaneous items thrown at her: Yes, cliff hanger but the chapter lost its momentum when I tried to push it further into the mountain. I would rather have smaller chapters with solid quality than larger chapters that really drag and irritate the pacing of the tale. Anyway, please remember to check the link posted at the beginning of the chapter. Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think! See you next time! ~ Laran


	20. Goblin Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – We’re moving into an arc of the story I’m particularly proud of. This chapter is short, I apologize, but it was necessary due to the way the story worked itself out. We’re going to see a part of Hawthorn that was only hinted at beforehand. I really hope you guys enjoy it! Thank you so much for your support.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

Thorin growled angrily as their fall finally ended with the company landing in what looked like a rough form of basket, struggling to pull himself out of the pile they had landed in. His first concern was for his One, and he tried to determine where she was in the heap of bodies but was unable to find her as they were set upon by a swarm of goblins.

The sounds of the company shouting as they tried to fight off their captors filled the air; a tremendous amount of curses in Khuzdul and Westron could almost be understood but were drowned out by the high pitched shrieks of the goblins while they dragged thirteen dwarves and one hobbit over rickety platforms towards the large area where a throne and a massive goblin were waiting.

The hideous creature was singing, and the company had to fight not to snicker when their burglar’s voice drifted to their ears only. The situation was grim, but they couldn’t help but be amused by her words and the tone of her voice.

“Merciful Yavanna, temporary deafness or something to shut his giant cake-hole with would be nice,” the hobbit muttered, sounding very disgruntled as she tried to cover her ears.

The goblin king finished its song, turning to stare at the company for several moments before speaking to his subjects and prisoners.

“Now, what do we have here? Thieves? Spies? Murderers?”

“Dwarves, your malevolence,” a goblin stated, causing the king to leer at the group with a look that made all of them feel rather nauseated.

“Dwarves indeed,” the king replied, smirking. “What brings Thorin Oakenshield to my humble little kingdom?”

Thorin said nothing, knowing he wouldn’t be able to keep his temper, and the massive goblin laughed maliciously.

“King Under the Mountain,” he sneered. “Oh yes, I nearly forgot – you have no mountain so that makes you king of nothing. No one of importance save to one particular person who has a keen interest in your head. Nothing else, just the head. He is offering a high price for it too; it surprises me to find you still alive considering the reward.”

Though the dwarf lord said nothing, the goblin king could see the flare of concern on the faces of the other dwarrow and decided to release the news that he knew would upset the king’s companions.

“Oh yes and it’s a reward I shall take a great deal of pleasure in collecting,” he continued, looking to an underling. “Send the message to Azog, his prey is here and will be waiting for him.”

“Impossible,” the king-in-exile told him as the creature hurried off to do its master’s bidding. “Azog is dead.”

“Oh no, you winged him pretty good but he survived. His defiling days are not over just yet,” the goblin snickered. “Now, while we wait for him, I want to know why you were on my front porch.”

As he waited for a response, he poked at the weapons piled in front of the throne. It was obvious he recognized one as he sneered at it, knowing he would be able to ensure it was never used again to kill another goblin or orc.

When no one answered, the massive being looked at the company. It was obvious none of them intended to answer his question, but he had ways around that.

“Bring out the Mangler and Bone Crusher. We’ll make them talk! Bring me the youngest one,” he ordered. 

Goblins fought against the older dwarrow, dragging Kili and Ori from the small safety of their families. The pair were fighting to get away, trying to shake off the pain from the blows they were given to bring them under control. They forced the two to their knees in front of the disgusting ruler on his throne and before the goblin king could attempt to harm them, a female voice was heard as a small figure darted out from the protection of the company.

“You will not harm them,” Hawthorn shouted, positioning herself so she was standing between the evil being and the two young dwarrow.

“So what do we have here? A halfling – something I had not thought I would ever see in my lifetime,” the goblin king stated, staring down at the tiny young woman. “Your people have hid from us since the murder of Golfimbul, little rat, and we have been trying to find you vermin since his death. The damned rangers have kept us out of that disgusting land you call home, preventing us from avenging his murder.”

Thorin’s throat went tight, remembering the story Hawthorn had shared with them about her ancestor killing the goblin king centuries ago. He had hoped they would not run into any of the dark beings, knowing she would be a target simply because of her race.

“Murder? Your people invaded our home, killing those who couldn’t defend themselves; Bullroarer did what was right and protected his people. The goblins had no right to invade Eriador, and we are proud of his actions that day,” she told him, sounding regal and strong as she faced him without showing any sign of her fear.

“Well, I was going to start with the younger ones but I have another plan. It’s time our old king is given justice, and you will bear the punishment for his murder,. You seem rather fond of the damned halfling’s deeds so we’ll start with you,” he told them.

At his words, Kili and Ori jumped to their feet and hurried to help protect the hobbit who had put herself in danger to keep them safe. Goblins rushed at the trio, trying to keep their king safe as well as try to hurt the lass and her protectors, and somehow herded the three youngest towards the edge of the platform.

The entire company shouted a warning to try and keep them away from the edge, struggling to help them when the king took a swipe at the goblins and the three company members with his ugly staff. The sounds of their shouts echoed in the vast chamber as the company watched Kili, Ori, and Hawthorn fall from the platform with several goblins with them.

“Mahal no,” Thorin prayed, terrified for his One, Ori, and his sister-son.

He could hear Ori’s brothers fighting, trying to get loose in hopes of finding a way to reach their brother, and his cousins were roaring their rage at the possible fate that had befallen the trio. He was filled with fury and fear, wanting to avenge any harm that came to those he cared about.

The king-in-exile met the eyes of the goblin king, his voice cold and full of promise.

“You will not survive this night,” the dwarf lord vowed, making the goblin step back and laugh nervously at the amount of malevolence in the dwarf’s voice.

“You can do nothing,” he sneered, then shrieked when a blast of white light suddenly filled the cavern.

Thorin and the remainder of the company were already on their feet, reaching for their weapons when Gandalf shouted for them to arm themselves. He picked up Hawthorn’s blade and tucked her staff alongside his ax on his back, knowing Fili would pick up his brother’s weapons. Orcrist was in his hands, soon biting into goblin flesh as he fought with his fellow dwarrow to leave this area so they could find their missing members.

The company fought fiercely, following the wizard as he guided them towards the exit. The dwarf lord was determined to find his way down once they were able and look for the missing trio. He was not leaving them behind so he used the determination and anger he felt to drive him forward, killing every goblin that had the misfortune of being in his path.

The massive bulk of the goblin king broke up through the wooden walkway they were racing across, sneering at the wizard and dwarrow.

“You are not leaving here,” he growled. “There is nothing you can do to stop me.”

The king-in-exile and Istar moved in tandem; Glamdring cutting across the fleshy pouch in front of the goblin’s neck while Orcrist bit deep into the belly of the creature, gutting him in a fatal manner.

“That would do it,” the dying being muttered, falling and destroying the walkway with his death throes.

Gandalf guided them down another pathway, and the battle continued as they fought their way out. The wooden structures were falling apart, shattering under the impact of dying goblins as well as the destruction the dwarrow were causing as they hurried through the dark cave.

A part of the platform they were on snapped under the weight and stress of the poor construction and damage, and everyone held onto either each other or something else as the wooden construct began to fall. It slid down the stone wall, wedging itself near the bottom.

The dwarrow hurriedly jumped onto the ground, following Gandalf towards the sunlight. It was only when they emerged into the light that the wizard realized they were three members short.

“We are missing Hawthorn, Ori, and Kili. Where are they,” he asked, eying the dwarrow.

“Hawthorn put herself in harm’s way to protect Kili and Ori when that filth wanted to torture them first for information. The so-called goblin king recognized her for what she was and threatened to make her pay for the death of their king. Kili and Ori tried to protect her, and the cursed filth pushed them off the edge,” Balin answered, breathing hard and wanting to go after the trio.

“We need to find them,” Thorin said, ready to head back into the cave.

“We will,” Gandalf replied. “Check for injuries first; the smell of blood will draw goblins to us, and we need to avoid that if at all possible. Once Oin is done, we will go and find our missing friends.”

Thorin secured Hawthorn’s blade and staff, then checked his own weapons while he waited for the healer to finish his examinations. He would not leave his One, his sister-son, and cousin in the dark to face whatever was down there.

Mahal, he pleaded silently in his mind. Please keep them safe!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note - A bit of a cliffhanger but not too terrible, I think. I’m going to be hiding in the bunker with the wombats in a couple of chapters, but it couldn’t be helped. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Please let me know what you think, and thank you for reading. See you next time. ~ Laran


	21. Underground Travails

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – I almost didn’t get this chapter up today; we had an issue with the power company that didn’t resolve until near six tonight. I’m overheated, in a lot of pain, and furious with the company. I hate living in a small town where you’re stuck with one option. Anyway, I think I may end up hiding in a bunker at the end of this chapter!
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

Kili was the first to wake, wincing as he sat up in the large mushroom patch. He was aching all over from the falls he had taken but nothing felt like it was broken, which he was grateful for. The overly large mushrooms he’d landed in had cushioned his fall, and he hoped that Hawthorn and Ori had managed to land in one of the patches as well. He didn’t want to think of how hurt they would be if they hadn’t landed in the soft patches, especially with the hobbit’s old injury.

The archer slowly rose to his feet, spotting Ori not too far from where he was. He hurried to his friend’s side, gently patting his cheek in hopes of rousing him. The scribe woke a few moments after the prince called his name, quickly recalling what had happened and who was missing.

“Oh Mahal, Hawthorn! Is she all right,” he asked while the other checked him over to ensure Ori hadn’t gotten hurt.

“I don’t know; you were the first I found. You landed not too far from where I did,” Kili replied, helping Ori up once he knew the other dwarf hadn’t broken anything.

The two froze a moment later when a goblin tried to attack them. The creature was broken, limbs all out of alignment, but it was still determined to cause them harm. The attack was halted a second later when the sound of a blade flying through the air was heard and a dagger embedded itself in the misshapen skull.

Kili checked the blade, pulling it out of the corpse and recognizing it as one of the daggers his uncle had created for his courting gift to Hawthorn. He grinned, turning to where the weapon had to have been thrown from, and spotted the hobbit.

“Thank Mahal, you’re all right,” he called, rushing to her side with Ori right beside him.

“Somewhat, thanks to these odd mushrooms breaking my fall,” she answered, allowing Ori and Kili to check her over. “I feel bruised all over, but my leg and hip aren’t exactly happy with me. I’m going to need help getting up if you two don’t mind?”

Hawthorn bit down on her lower lip, muffling the cry of pain that emerged when the pair helped her to her feet. She had no idea where her bag was and knew she would have to try to deal with the agony until they rejoined the group. Hopefully, her Calon-Tad would have something to help.

“Right, we need to find a way out of here,” she managed to say once her breathing leveled out and the two dwarrow with her were satisfied she wasn’t seriously injured.

“Good thing you have dwarrow with you,” Ori commented. “We have a sense for stone; it not only allows our miners to find the veins of ore and where the gems are but also helps us navigate through the stone when we’re within a mountain.”

“Thank the Valar for that,” the hobbit replied. “Hobbits don’t have such a gift so I would have been wandering down here for days if I were alone. Before I forget, here Ori, you can borrow this until we rejoin the company. Hopefully, they’ll have our weapons with them. Kili, you can use the one you pulled out of the goblin.”

Hawthorn handed the scribe one of her daggers, glad the goblins hadn’t searched her too carefully due to the company shielding her as best as they could in that horrid situation. This way they had some measure of protection while wandering down here.

The dwarf took the dagger, then stayed close for her to lean on him when it became apparent her old injury was causing serious trouble. She limped between them, trusting them to guide her out of the mountain. 

They traveled quietly, not wanting to disturb anything that might be on this level, and eventually, the hobbit gasped and stopped.

“Hawthorn?”

“I just stepped on something,” she told Ori, bending down to retrieve whatever it was she had trod on. “That’s odd.”

“What is,” the archer asked, helping her straighten when she stood upright.

“It’s a ring,” the lass answered, holding her hand out to reveal the gold band. It shone in the dim light, and the dwarrow shook their heads.

“Strange is right,” Kili agreed. “Goblins usually don’t keep jewelry like this around; their skills with metal work are fairly rudimentary. Whoever crafted the ring had some skill with metalwork.”

“Chances are good that someone dropped it,” Ori murmured. 

“Possibly,” Hawthorn replied. “I guess I’ll keep it for now; I don’t see any markings on it to show who might’ve made it. I suppose there’s no way to find out who originally owned it.”

She slid the ring onto her finger for safe keeping and both Ori and Kili started for a moment, stunned by her disappearance. They stared at each other in disbelief before trying to find the missing lass.

“Hawthorn, where did you go,” the scribe asked, looking around to find the hobbit.

“I’m still here,” she answered. “I disappeared?”

“Yes, I think it’s the ring. Take it off,” Kili instructed, not liking the thought of not being able to see her.

She appeared quickly, shuddering as she did so. The lass looked pale and sickly, and it worried both dwarrow. When she spotted their concerned expressions, the hobbit quickly explained what had caused her to look so ill.

“The ring,” Hawthorn whispered. “It’s horrible; I put it on, and everything went gray. It feels wrong, like greasy smoke clinging to me. It makes me want to be sick.”

Before either dwarf could answer, there was a shout of “Precious” before a misshapen figure leaped onto Hawthorn from behind. She went down hard, screaming when the creature bit down onto her shoulder and shook its head in an attempt to rip her flesh. 

Ori and Kili both reacted, burying the daggers into the body of the wretch that was attacking the hobbit. Ori’s sank into the spine while the archer’s penetrated the base of the skull, and the creature died instantly. They tugged their weapons free, then yanked the corpse off of Hawthorn. Carefully, they helped her sit up and Ori checked her shoulder to determine how much damage the attack had done.

“Are you all right,” Kili asked, terrified she’d been hurt badly.

“It broke the skin,” she said, shuddering with fear and pain. “I could feel the teeth sink into me through the coat and my clothes.”

“It did some damage, but I can’t tell how badly it hurt her. I don’t see a lot of blood, but the clothing could be padding that,” Ori stated, shaking his head. “We need to get her to Oin so he can clean it properly so there’s no infection.”

“Hawthorn, put the ring into a pocket,” the archer suggested. “If it makes you feel odd wearing it and that foul creature was looking for it, it can’t be a good thing and shouldn’t be left down here for a goblin to find. We should show it to Gandalf whenever he arrives, and let him figure out what to do with it.”

The hobbit nodded, tucking it into a pocket of her coat and buttoned the flap to make sure the ring wouldn’t fall out. Once done, Kili and Ori helped her to her feet and slowly, the trio began to make their way out of the mountain.

It took some time, but they finally emerged into the sunlight and paused to absorb the fresh air and light. The pause was a brief one because they could hear familiar voices not too far from their location, and the three of them headed towards where the sounds were coming from.

“We need to hurry; Mahal only knows what they’re facing right now, and they could be hurt,” Nori’s voice was heard, bringing a small smile to the scribe’s face.

“Hurrying means a greater risk for mistakes,” Gandalf replied. “We need to do this as quietly as possible so as not to bring danger to them and ourselves. If the goblins realize we reentered their mountain, they will try to find our missing friends before we do.”

“Not necessary,” Ori called out, startling the company. “We found our way out!”

Thorin and Dori were the first to reach the trio; the silver haired dwarf embracing his brother before checking him over to ensure he wasn’t visibly hurt. The king-in-exile pressed his forehead to Hawthorn’s and then Kili’s, silently thanking Mahal and Yavanna for returning his loved ones to him.

“I am so very pleased to see you,” he told the three of them, sounding relieved. “Are you injured?”

“Bruised mostly,” Kili answered. “Hawthorn needs to see Oin though. We had some really big mushrooms to cushion our fall, but her old injury is playing up. Then she was attacked by some strange creature; it bit her on the shoulder.”

Thorin gestured for Oin, and they helped Hawthorn take a seat on a fallen log. While the healer checked her over, cleaning the wound that had been caused by ragged teeth, Ori told the story of what happened. When the ring was mentioned and how it had sickened the hobbit to wear it, Gandalf straightened and looked over at Hawthorn.

“I would like to inspect this ring once we reach a safe harbor,” the Istar told her.

“You’re welcome to do so,” she answered. “I don’t like how it felt when I was wearing it. Sooner I can get rid of it, the better.”

After Ori finished the tale, he and Kili returned her daggers to her, which she placed in the hidden sheathes. They had been given their weapons back, and Thorin had done the same with her staff and sword.

“Good news is that the coat and layers you wear managed to keep you from getting damaged too much by that bite, even with the attempt to rip the flesh,” Oin told his daughter. “Keep it clean, and there should be no scarring.”

“What’s the bad news,” she asked, tugging her coat back on.

“Like the rest of the company, I lost my pack and the main kit I use for healing,” he answered. “I don’t have any of the mixture Elrond sent for when your injury flares up.”

“I’ll manage,” Hawthorn tried to reassure him, freezing when an all too familiar sound echoed through the air.

“Wargs,” Dwalin growled, gripping his axes tightly.

“We need to move,” Gandalf stated, watching as Gloin scooped the injured hobbit off of her feet.

The howls were now closer, and Thorin looked to the wizard. This was not a good situation, and he had wanted a chance for his company to rest.

“Out of the frying pan,” he muttered.

“Into the fire,” the Istar replied. “Run!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note - You’ll note I made some big changes here; I don’t see the reason for the whole riddle scene with two others with her. I don’t think the changes deter from the story and hope all of you agree. I’m going to hide in my bunker now. See everyone next time! ~ Laran


	22. Into the Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – I am both anticipating and dreading the response to this chapter. Hopefully, everyone will enjoy it. Action scenes are not my favorite to write so I hope this turns out well. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make money from this story.

The company scrambled, running in hopes of finding a safe place to hide or at least a way to evade their pursuers. Unfortunately for them, they ran into a clearing that held no exit. They were trapped between the mountain and a dangerous drop, and the king-in-exile growled a moment, trying to come up with a plan. There was no path to follow, and no place to hide either.

Before anyone could make a suggestion or move, a harsh sounding laugh filled the air. It was too familiar and sent shudders through the spines of the dwarrow who had heard it before because it had terrorized their dreams for far too long. Thorin’s eyes met those of Balin and Dwalin, who nodded. There was no other choice but to stand their ground.

“Stay as close to the young ones as much as you can,” the dwarf lord instructed Dori and Nori, knowing his sister-sons, Ori, and Hawthorn would be watched over by the two older sons of Ri.

Dori nodded, bowing slightly to acknowledge the command. There would be no way to keep them out of the fight, but he and Nori could at least ensure the four younger members of the company were kept as far away from Azog as possible. If they were fortunate, the damned orc would not be aware of who Fili and Kili were and would not try to single them out as he would Thorin.

The first wave of orcs riding on wargs rushed towards them, and the company moved to engage the group. Battle fever pushed aside exhaustion, all of them determined to protect their loved ones and do whatever it took to end the hunt that had been going on for so long now.

Beneath Orcrist’s blade, goblins, orcs, and wargs dropped easily and the king-in-exile was glad to have such a well-crafted weapon now. He sensed the change in tactics when fewer vermin attacked him, realizing the bulk of the group with Azog was now focused on the rest of the company, and he knew what it meant. Sapphire eyes locked onto the approaching white warg that bore the figure of the orc who had haunted his dreams for decades.

The beast lunged at him, and Thorin ducked out of the way. As he did so, he swung his weapon up and felt the sword make contact with the exposed throat. It bit deeply into the soft skin and tissue, dropping the warg swiftly as it began to bleed out. This situation made the battle both easier and more difficult for Thorin. Easier in that the warg was no longer a player in the fight, but it meant Azog was now on the ground and could maneuver a bit more easily.

The orc headed straight towards him, lashing out with the large mace he carried, and the dwarf managed to block it. His arms, strengthened by years of fighting and smithing, shook under the impact but did not weaken. It was that strength Thorin used to swing at him. Orcrist bit deeply along the side where the shoddy armor didn’t cover, and the orc growled with rage.

The two fought for a while, focused on each other and not seeing what was going on around them, and so Thorin didn’t realize that most of the orcs had been slain due to the hard work of the company. He ducked out of the way of a warg that had gotten past Dwalin’s twin axes; he’d heard the growl and managed to move out of the range of the fangs. However, it had left him open for the mace to impact hard against his stomach. The brigandine prevented a lot of injuries from the sharp ridges of the weapon, but the dwarf lord knew he’d be dealing with the impact damage later if they survived this.

A second blow managed to break through his defenses, Orcrist hitting the ground along with himself, and the warg tried to drag him after grabbing a hold of him by biting down on his midsection. It was stopped by a familiar looking dagger embedding itself between the animal’s eyes, and Thorin hit the ground when the dead creature released him.

Azog roared at the interference, swinging his mace to try and end the life of the dwarf in front of him, and found his strike blocked by a small creature wielding a staff and blade. She managed to stay upright despite the force of the blow, and her weapons deflected the strike from the larger mace.

“You will not hurt him,” Hawthorn warned, assuming the proper stance to go against the orc. 

“He is mine,” the orc snarled, giving the young woman a look of rage as she continued to stand between him and his prey.

“No, he is not,” she growled back at the creature, voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “He is mine, and I am his. You will not touch him because his life is protected.”

“Then you will die before him,” Azog snarled, swinging at the hobbit.

Hawthorn stayed focused, blocking each swing and returning with strikes from either her blade or staff. She knew she wasn’t experienced enough in fighting to stand against this monster for long, but she had to do something to keep her cariad safe. Her hope was to distract Azog long enough to give Thorin time to recover from the bite and two hits he had taken. If she could do that, then hopefully he would be able to kill the orc and keep the line of Durin free from his obsession. In her mind, she focused herself on giving the king enough time to get to his feet.

The dwarf lord struggled to his feet, reaching for Orcrist at the same time. He couldn’t let Hawthorn face Azog alone. He raised his sword, leaping back into the fray despite the pain from his chest and abdomen. The need to protect his One and sister-sons was driving him, keeping his aching body moving as he worked to end the life of the being that had terrorized his family for such a very long time.

The fight seemed to go on for far too long, and Thorin was doing the best he could to keep Azog’s attention on him and not Hawthorn. His brave One was showing so much courage, and his very being was filled with admiration for her actions today and hoped she would not be injured.

Another blow from the mace came down hard, and he managed to deflect it with his sword but stumbled. He was tiring, torso hurting from the strikes he had taken earlier as well as the bite from the warg, and he was aware his opponent knew it. Azog’s mace came hurling at him, catching him once more in the midsection and knocking him to the ground.

Hawthorn once again put herself between the downed dwarf and the orc, eyes gleaming with determination as she sought to buy him more time. Her actions served to enrage the creature, and Thorin’s heart jumped into his throat when the foul being turned his attention onto the hobbit.

“Out of my way,” the orc growled, swinging the mace at the small lass once again.

The staff blocked it, and Thorin was grateful for the mithril core the elf had put inside of it because he wasn’t sure the wood would have held up under a blow that hard. He cried out when Azog followed through by stabbing the odd metal device he had driven in place of his lower arm deep inside Hawthorn’s midsection. 

The blade and staff fell to the ground as her hands went limp for a moment before scrabbling at the metal embedded in her body, crying out in agony when the orc lifted her off the ground to stare her in the face.

“And now the little protector will die knowing I will take the head of my prey,” he growled at her.

“No,” she told him, giving him a mocking look as one hand loosened itself from the metal impaled in her. “You won’t; I told you he is mine, and I won’t let you hurt him.”

“You can do nothing, runt,” Azog laughed, amused by her words. “You will die, and I will still take Thorin Oakenshield’s life.”

Thorin squinted, watching as his One reached behind her and pulled something free from a sheath she wore at the small of her back. She kept the orc distracted with her words, moving carefully so as not to draw his attention to what she was doing.

“Once again, you stupid piece of dung, he is mine and I am his,” she told him, sounding fierce. “Yavanna and Mahal crafted us for each other, and I will not let you take his life. He is too precious to be touched by filth like you.”

Not a second later, a familiar dagger embedded itself into the pale forehead of the foul creature who had haunted the line of Durin for so long, ending his life once and for all. The sapphires in the blade Frerin had crafted sparkled in the dying light for a moment before the tall orc fell, taking the impaled hobbit with him.

“Hawthorn!”

The name of his One burst from his lips when the small body hit the ground, still impaled on the metal device. He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the pain as he hurried to reach her side. Shaking fingers gently touched her neck, and he sighed with relief when he felt the pulse of her heart beneath the pale skin.

“She’s alive,” he breathed out, hearing the sighs of relief from the company.

“Don’t move her,” Gandalf instructed, hurrying towards them. “She’ll bleed out faster if we pull her off of the implement. Dori, I need you to hold that metal still while Thorin, you and Dwalin make sure she doesn’t move.”

Everyone scrambled to obey, watching as the wizard swung down with his blade. Glamdring cut through flesh, muscle, and bone easily, cutting the arm off right above where the stump began.

“We can’t leave this in her for long, Tharkûn,” Oin objected as he began to use what bandages he had to help stop the flow of blood from the areas where the metal entered her body.

“I know,” he said, kneeling to put a hand on the hobbit’s head. “Fortunately, this didn’t penetrate all the way through so I’ll have an easier time keeping her alive until we reach help.”

“There’s no help to be found here,” Dwalin growled, feeling helpless.

“Help is coming, master dwarf,” Gandalf snapped back at him. “Now, get everything together. We need to be ready to move when help arrives.”

The company hastened to obey, finding the daggers Hawthorn and Nori had thrown as well as salvaging what arrows they could for Kili. Fili pulled the knife out of Azog’s skull, tucking it safely way for now since he knew she would want it back.

The help that Gandalf had referred to were the eagles of Manwë, which was a sight Thorin had never thought to see in his life. The wizard climbed up onto the back of one, accepting the still form of Hawthorn as she was passed up to him by Dwalin. Every movement with her had been made carefully so as not to jar the metal that was still lodged inside of her.

Fili and Kili aided the dwarf lord onto another eagle, helping Oin up to sit with him since they knew their uncle had taken several hard hits. They wanted to ensure that Thorin would not run into any complications while they traveled to whatever place the Istar had in mind for rest and recovery.

Thorin gave no complaint; his heart and mind were too busy begging Mahal to spare his One. The sight of Azog holding her suspended above the ground kept replaying itself, and he was terrified that she would be taken from him.

“Hawthorn, fight this,” he whispered as the eagles took off. “Don’t go where I cannot follow. Stay with me. Mahal, please, help her survive this.”

If Oin heard his prayer, he said nothing and simply kept an eye on his king while offering up prayers of his own to their Maker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note - Please let me know what you thought of the chapter. I’m going to hide in my bunker now. See you next time. ~ Laran


	23. Healing of a Hobbit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note - I’m so pleased with the responses to the last chapter. I thought for sure everyone wouldn’t be happy with the cliffhanger, but I only got a few playful jabs on that. You are completely awesome!
> 
> Just a warning, I’m not a doctor or any medical type person. If there’s mistakes to the medical part here, I apologize!
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make money from this story.

The flight seemed to take forever to every member of Thorin’s company. No one slept as the eagles flew through the night; all of their attention was focused on the eagle the wizard flew on with the injured hobbit. Like Thorin and Oin, they were all begging Mahal to help their courageous burglar. None of them wanted to see her pass to go into Yavanna’s Gardens; they’d all become so very fond of the lass and dreaded losing her before her time.

It was just after dawn when the massive birds began descending, heading towards a large field. Kili made out the sight of two figures waiting for them and wondered if this was part of the help Gandalf had mentioned before leaving the site of the battle. In his heart, he hoped so and that they would be able to do something so Hawthorn would recover from the horrible injury she had sustained.

After the eagles landed, a large figure darted up to the bird Gandalf was riding and accepted the small figure of the hobbit he’d been holding throughout the long flight. As the dwarrow slid off of the eagles, they heard the wizard call out to the group. 

“Stay on the porch until we call you; Oin, follow me.”

The healer hurried to catch up with the one who held the hobbit, intent on helping his daughter. He knew his brother would be able to identify and treat any minor wounds the company might have sustained during the battle, and he would handle the rest once Hawthorn was taken care of. He followed Gandalf into the house, closing the door behind him, and spotted the familiar form of Radagast standing near the table where the hobbit had been laid.

“I sent a message ahead when I realized just how badly Hawthorn had been injured,” Gandalf told him, setting his hat, outer robes, and staff to the side. “He is a stronger healer than I am, and we will need his help as well as Beorn’s if we are to help her recover from this wound.”

“Thank you both,” Oin told them, scrubbing his hands with hot water and soap provided before moving to the table.

“I owe her a debt for what she has done,” Beorn told him, looking down at the unconscious girl. “Azog has long been an enemy of mine, and I will do all I can to help the one who destroyed him.”

Once he had finished scrubbing his hands clean, the gray clad wizard joined the others to where Hawthorn lay, frowning at his friend. Radagast was examining her wounds, focused on the unconscious lass for quite some time.

“We need to remove her coat and cut the shirt off; it won’t be salvageable, I’m afraid,” he told them. “If we keep her from jolting too much, it shouldn’t pull her out of unconsciousness.”

With Beorn holding the metal implement steady, Radagast and Gandalf gently lifted her while Oin removed the coat and cut the shirt and camisole in the back and backs of the arms before gesturing for them to lay her back down. A few moments later, the two garments were cut off and set aside for the animals to discard.

“When we pull the metal out, I’ll have to focus what magic I can into healing her. Since she’s had quite a bit of magical healing before, I am not sure how much I can do before her body rejects it. Hopefully, since the wound is in a different area than where the first healing had been done, we might be able to do enough to keep her stable before rejection happens. Beorn, you’ll have to hold her down please because this part will pull her out of unconsciousness and the pain will make her thrash. Master dwarf, can you keep track of her heart and breathing? If she shows signs of shock or distress, let me know. Gandalf, be ready to put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding.”

With a quiet prayer to Mahal, Oin moved to stand out of the wizards’ way and took his daughter’s hand, laying his fingers on her wrist to find her pulse. He found it easily and kept praying, hoping against hope the wizards would be able to keep her alive. His free hand rested close to her mouth and nose, feeling grateful to feel the air against his skin as she breathed.

“Got it, steady so far,” he told Radagast.

“Everyone ready?”

At the nod from the trio, the brown clad wizard carefully removed the metal that had been imbedded into the girl’s torso. Her blue eyes opened, and a heartbreaking scream of agony filled the air when the horrible implement was pulled out. Beorn had to hold the lass down, hoping that she would pass out soon. She was fighting to get away from the pain, not that he could blame her, and sent up a prayer to every Valar he could think of in hopes she would find oblivion in unconsciousness quickly. His prayer was answered when she went limp a few moments later.

Radagast dropped the awful thing onto the floor, focusing his attention on the wound it had caused. He frowned deeper when the dwarf’s voice was heard.

“Her pulse is slowing down,” he warned, not liking that fact or how pale she looked.

“Gandalf, focus your magic on her heart and keep it steady,” the smaller wizard instructed, pushing his magic into the wound to heal it from the inside out. 

Beorn wiped Hawthorn’s forehead, watching the wizards as they worked on the hobbit. Radagast soon went to the herbs, bandages, and other medical supplies that had been gathered while he and the shape shifter had waited for the group to arrive. After stitching the wound closed, the Istar chosen by Yavanna ground herbs together, applying it thickly to both the wound and bandage before the tall male lifted her upper body off of the table so the other could wrap the bandage snugly around her.

“I’ve gotten the internal damage to the organs and most of the muscles repaired, but she’ll have to let the rest of it heal naturally. The wound is a few inches deep and if she’s careful, the stitches along with the herbs should help her heal fairly quickly. With food and rest, she should be moving again in about two weeks. That’s provided there’s no complication since we have no idea what was on that damnable piece of metal the wretch used on her.”

With the group working together, they cleaned her up, treated the other injuries, and dressed her in one of the shape shifter’s shirts before putting her into bed. Once done, they headed out to the porch to share the news with the rest of the company.

Radagast left a few moments later to tend to his other duties, promising to return in a week to check in on the hobbit, and the group headed inside to find the animals cleaning up the mess and scrubbing the table. When cleaned, Beorn gestured for the dwarrow and wizard to take a seat and helped his animals set out food to help fill the empty bellies of his guests.

“I still can’t believe the little lass killed the defiler,” Beorn commented, pouring milk for all of them. “She seems so small.”

“She did,” Gloin answered with a note of pride in his voice. “Thanks to her, the line of Durin will be hunted no more and King Thror is avenged.”

“Somehow, I doubt avenging King Thror was on her mind,” Nori commented dryly. “Even with all the ruckus going on, I think we all heard her words to that piece of shite.”

“No, she was not focused on avenging those who have long since passed and that brings one specific issue to mind,” Balin stated, looking at Thorin. “I know she was not aware of the fact, but she did demonstrate in both word and deed that she is ready to end the courtship in a positive way.”

Instead of answering, Thorin looked at Oin, who had been following the conversation due to Gloin signing it in iglishmêk. His cousin sighed, signing something back and nodding when he got all of the facts from his brother. The healer looked both proud and tired, but he met the king-in-exile’s eyes with certainty when he provided the answer to the silent question weighing on him.

“I doubt she knows what she did but given she claimed Thorin as hers in front of witnesses, he has my permission to speak to her about this. If she’s willing, I will give my blessing to their betrothal. Dori, will you see what you can do for Hawthorn regarding a shirt and some means of binding? Her trousers are coat are the only things that survived the battle in somewhat decent shape.”

The silver haired dwarf nodded, realizing what the healer was asking. He’d been asked to make this specific garment for many dwarrowdams and could do it rather quickly. Fortunately, for this piece, he wouldn’t need measurements. For the shirt, he would use her coat since he knew how it hung on her when she wore it.

“I have some fabric I was given in trade for my herbs and honey, master dwarf, and I have little use for most of it. Maybe you can make something for her since we had to cut the shirt and undershirt off,” Beorn told him.

“You have my thanks,” Dori answered. “I’ll see if I can fashion the betrothal ribbon as well just in case it’s needed.”

“I appreciate that,” Thorin said quietly. “Master Beorn, some of our equipment took damage while in the goblin’s cavern. Would you happen to have a forge I could use to make repairs?”

“I do,” their host answered. “I will show it to you tomorrow once you have all rested. You and yours are more than welcome to remain here until your little warrior has recovered. Master Oin, I will show you where my herbs are so you will know where to get them if you need to help your company or your daughter during her recovery. You are also welcome to take what you need for the rest of your journey in case of illness or injury.”

“You have my thanks,” the healer told him, then looked towards the group. “Like that wizard said before he left, we have no idea what Azog got into and that metal thing was inside her body for hours. Chances are good she will become sick from whatever was on it so we’ll need to keep watch over her. If I am not with her when she shows signs of sickening or waking, come and get me immediately.”

“We’ll set up a watch rotation for her,” Dwalin insisted. “This way she’s not alone at any given time, and we can make sure you’re summoned if something happens.”

“I’ll take the first watch,” Thorin told them, blinking when Oin stopped him.

“Any injuries from the battle, cousin?”

“Cracked ribs and bruising to the abdomen, according to Gloin,” the dark haired dwarf reported. “My brigandine stopped any penetration from the teeth or ridges from the mace.”

“When your relief arrives, come and find me. I want to check for myself,” Oin replied, giving his brother a pat on the shoulder as he spoke. “Gloin is good for the lighter wounds, but I’d feel better making sure he didn’t miss anything.”

“I promise I will come find you,” Thorin swore before slowly getting up and heading to the room where his One lay.

Hawthorn was pale, hair spilling messily over the pillows. Her face was drawn with pain, which had the dwarf calling out to Oin before pulling a chair to the side of the bed. Fortunately, her breathing was steady and it reassured him for the moment.

Oin came in with a small cup and, with Thorin’s help, a dose of pain remedy was given to her. The older dwarf made note of the time and headed out, leaving his cousin alone with the patient. 

Dark blue eyes watched the bed, and he slipped out of his coat to get more comfortable. He knew he would have a wait ahead of him before he could speak his mind to her; truth was, he was stunned to know that Azog was finally dead and he and his kin were free of the orc’s obsessive need to eliminate the line of Durin.

“You are stronger than I originally thought, my treasure,” he murmured. “I owe you so much already. Fight through this and return to us.”

There was no answer, and he settled himself to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – I made the decision that a creature who has no magic can only handle so much magical healing before the body rejects the foreign energy. As much as I love magic, I didn’t want it to be the cure-all for things. I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter. Please let me know what you thought of it. Thank you for reading, and I’ll see everyone next time! ~ Laran


	24. Tending to Hawthorn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – Here’s the next installment; it’s short but concluded naturally, and I am not one to push it too far and wreck pacing. Again, I am not a medical professional so I’m using what information I know from my readings over the years. I apologize for any mistakes made.
> 
> I am so glad I have a surplus to post while I work on Nanowrimo this year! Please wish me luck and enjoy the chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer - I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

The sickness that Oin had warned them to watch for came several hours after Thorin had completed his watch and had been replaced by Ori, who had settled in the chair with some yarn and his knitting needles to keep himself occupied while he waited. The yarn and needles were items he’d kept on his person and had been overjoyed to find that he hadn’t lost them during their time in the goblin’s realm.

The king-in-exile had carried through with his promise, seeing his cousin for an exam, and both of them had been pleased to find that Gloin’s diagnosis and treatment had been spot on. An ointment was applied to ease the bruising, and Oin had mixed a pain syrup into milk before having him drink it to help relieve Thorin’s pain. Once he had complied with the healer’s request, Oin let him go rest and checked on the other members of the company that needed him for treatment.

Ori came into the room where all of them were quietly talking and relaxing, and the eyes of the entire company settled on him. He didn’t seem to notice, looking directly at Oin.

“It looks like a fever is starting,” he told him, hands signing along with his words. “Not too high yet but her cheeks are showing signs of it.”

Oin rose, grabbing a small basket he had set up with everything he would need to take care of the hobbit, and he went into his daughter’s room to examine her. The wound, when he checked it first, looked clear; he was grateful to see that as it meant no infection had settled in yet. Calling out, he asked Dori to boil some water and pour it into a teapot if their host had one. While he waited for that, the semi-deaf dwarf went and got a basin of cool water. He mixed a few herbs into it and began slowly wiping down her skin to help her cool off.

Dori brought the teapot, and Oin steeped a tea that would help reduce the fever. Once it was ready, the tailor held her head up while the healer slowly trickled the tea down her throat. It was a slow process, but they finally got the contents of a single cup into her.

“We’ll have to repeat this tea every hour,” he told Dori, who nodded.

“I’ll make sure to keep hot water on hand,” he promised. “Is there anything else we can do?”

“Have Bombur get together with our host and see what can be done about making a broth that won’t be too heavy for her stomach but will keep her nourished. With a fever and healing this wound, her body will be needing fluids and the broth to help strengthen it as well as replenish the energy it’s using.”

Dori nodded, going to find the company’s cook. He told the rotund dwarf what was needed and moments later, Bombur was talking to their host about what would be required to help Hawthorn fight through the illness and healing. 

It didn’t take long before the cook was escorted to the kitchen and given ingredients for a broth that would help the patient. He worked for a long while to create the soup and took Oin a cup of the broth to give to Hawthorn.

“Until she’s better, I’ll keep a pot simmering at all times. I’ll set one of the lads to ensure she has water too so you can keep her hydrated; I’ll teach them how to sweeten it with honey for more energy for her,” Bombur told him, handing the cup to the healer. “If there’s anything else I can do, let me know.”

“Thank you, Bombur,” Oin replied, grateful for the company’s help. “I hope she’ll fight through this quickly, and we’ll need to make sure she has everything she’ll need to do so.”

“I’ll send Bifur in once your time in here is done,” the heavy-set Broadbeam informed him. “He’s quiet but knows what to watch for since he usually takes night duties whenever one of my bairns are ill. He’s the one they usually feel happiest with during those hours.”

“I’ll take all the help I can get,” the older dwarf replied, grateful when Bombur aided him in giving the broth to the patient.

Oin stayed with her for hours, monitoring her temperature and breathing. Despite his best efforts, her fever climbed and his worries rose along with it. Eventually, he rose and found their host, asking if he had a source for ice or a cold stream or pond.

Beorn was silent for a moment, then nodded.

“There is a stream not far from here that is cold enough for what you need and moves swiftly enough so that the water stays clean,” he told the dwarf. “I will carry her there so you can tend to her in the water. Give me a moment to make arrangements.”

Oin returned to his daughter’s side, waiting until the shape-shifter returned with towels and a fresh shirt. He took those from him as well as what was needed to change her bandages and then followed him when their host carried the feverish hobbit out.

Apparently, Beorn had told the others about their plans because Gandalf was waiting to accompany them while the company watched them head to the door with worried faces. Noone questioned them as the trio exited the house and went to the stream.

Once they arrived, the dwarf and wizard stripped the hobbit of the shirt and bandages, leaving her in her small-clothes to protect her modesty. When she was ready, Beorn carried her into the stream and knelt so she was fully immersed.

Oin and Gandalf worked alongside him, cleaning her and waiting until her fever dropped before gesturing for him to take her out of the water. She whimpered at the touch of the cold liquid but didn’t thrash, and she stayed quiet and asleep while she was dried, bandages reapplied, and dressed.

“The fever has lowered for now,” the dwarf told the pair. “We’ll have to do this again if it rises once more. I am hopeful it’ll stay down, but there is no way of telling since this illness could be due to some contagion left upon the metal.”

“I will search for some herbs for a special potion that might help,” the Istar commented while they headed back into the large man’s home. “This is something I learned long ago, and it tends to be rather efficacious in regards to combating things like this. If Beorn does not have what I need in his garden, then I should be able to find it not far from here. This area is one of the areas where the herbs are known to grow.”

They parted near the front door, and Oin opened the door for the shape changer. The company quieted as they entered, all eyes on the frail looking form of their burglar.

“Oin?”

“We were able to get her fever down for now,” the healer told Thorin. “Tharkûn is looking for herbs to make a potion that might be able to help get rid of whatever is making her sick. Fortunately, her wound isn’t showing signs of infection so it must be some form of contamination that was on the metal the damned orc was using in place of an arm.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

“Find out what Tharkûn needs that we already have so we can have everything ready for him when he finds the herbs he needs,” Oin replied. “It’ll save time, which makes it better for Hawthorn.”

Thorin didn’t even have to ask; Bifur and Ori hurried out the door to find the Istar in hopes of helping him get things done quicker. The future King Under the Mountain sank back into a chair, watching as Beorn and Oin headed back to the bedroom where Hawthorn would be recuperating. 

“She’s a strong one,” Dwalin commented, cleaning his axes. “The lass will fight through this. Before too long, once we’re all hale again, you’ll be dragging your betrothed and company through the damned forest of the elves.”

“Provided she agrees,” his shield brother murmured. “She still has the right to say no since she had no idea what her actions and words mean when spoken during courtship. I will not force her into this if she’s not ready.”

“Hawthorn will say yes, uncle,” Fili chimed, working on sharpening his own blades. “Soulmates are special, no matter the race, and this is a chance for her to be happy. You two get along well, and we’ve all seen her try to ensure to speak to you every day since we left Rivendell. If that isn’t a sign that she wants things to go well between the two of you, then I don’t know what is.”

Thorin nodded, taking out his pipe and filling it. He knew they were right, but he wasn’t one to make too many assumptions about people. Truth was, he’d been in a leadership position long enough to know that assumptions were the wrong thing to make because people never followed the paths that most would expect them to take. Hawthorn was a prime example of that since it was a well-known fact that hobbits were not the kind of people to leave their green land.

Ori and Bifur came back in with greenery and flowers in hand, focused on the tasks the wizard had set them on. No one questioned them, knowing that this would save time and enable the medicine getting to Hawthorn quicker. Once they had everything arranged, the pair rejoined the company.

“Gandalf had to leave to find the final two herbs he needs,” Ori told the group. “He said he’d make the potion once he returned.”

“Did he say how long he would be gone,” the dwarf lord asked.

“He didn’t; he said that he was hopeful he’d be able to find what he needed in the first location. The way he spoke, I don’t think it’s too far from here. Hopefully, he’ll be back soon.”

The group nodded, agreeing with the scribe’s hopes in regards to the wizard returning swiftly. They all knew just how a high fever could affect a person, and none of them wanted to see the hobbit stay ill or become damaged because of the temperature she kept spiking into.

Thorin smoked his pipe, praying to Mahal that his One would heal and come through this ordeal without any lingering effects. She was too important to him, and the idea of losing her was one that terrified him. So he kept praying silently, hoping that their creator would hear his words and grant his wish regarding Hawthorn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter; again, sorry it’s so short but necessary since it reached its natural conclusion. Now that this is up, I need to go back to my Nano project. Let me know what you think of the chapter, and thank you for reading! See you next time. ~ Laran


	25. On the Mend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – Here’s the next installment. Nano is going great so far; I’m close to 22K words and going strong so far. It’s a Hobbit story so I’ll share it once I finish this project and get a bit more done on current WIPs. I’m excited for it so far! 
> 
> Personal update, I received an email from my attorney with the brief he sent to the judge and disability people to appeal the decision. So I’m waiting again to see what happens next. Please keep me in your thoughts. I appreciate it so much.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

The potion Gandalf created wound up being a success; Oin made sure to add the main component, athelas, to the herbal kit he was building from Beorn’s garden. Hawthorn’s fever broke after two days of worry and sleepless nights for the company. Bifur had been the one sitting with her when the fever broke, and he had rushed out into the main room to report the news. Oin and Gandalf had hurried into the bedroom to check on her, leaving a relieved company to wait for further word on their hobbit’s condition.

The king-in-exile slumped in his seat, breathing a prayer of gratitude to the Valar for ensuring the sickness had left his One. Thorin had spent as much of his time at her bedside as her family allowed, grateful they had not tried to bar him from her sickbed. He’d sung to her or simply spoke of happier moments in his past in hopes that his voice would reach her and help guide her back to him.

The wizard returned a short while later, a look of relief on his face. That expression as well as the news he brought had raised the company’s spirits a great deal. 

“Her skin is cool, though she has broken a sweat. I am not certain when she will wake, but Oin and I feel she is finally on the mend. Hawthorn will need to take it easy for a while and allow her injury to heal a bit more before she tries walking,” he told them.

“However long she needs, we can give it to her,” Thorin informed him. “I hope we are not too much of an imposition, Master Beorn?”

“Not at all,” the shape changer reassured him. “You and your company are welcome here for as long as it takes to get the little warrior healthy and back on her feet. I am happy to hear that she is doing better.”

“Thanks to your assistance,” the dwarf lord stated, knowing exactly how much he owed the man for his kind generosity and aid with tending to Hawthorn.

“Azog and his vermin enslaved many of my people,” Beorn told him, large fingers trailing over the manacles he wore. “I was one of them, forced to fight for sport. He destroyed so many of my loved ones, and I vowed vengeance when I escaped. I owe her a debt that I will never be able to repay.”

“I have the same debt,” Thorin shared. “That scum murdered my grandfather and several other members of my family. He hunted my line for far too long, and now we are free. My sister-sons will never fully know the fear the rest of us have lived with, and I am so very grateful to her for that.”

“Aye, we are free,” the large male stated, looking up from the manacles when the dwarf replied.

“If you are willing to have it done, I can remove those from you,” he offered, knowing he had to make the repairs to their equipment soon and could do so now that Hawthorn was finally on the mend. 

“I will think on it,” Beorn answered. “I have worn them for so long to remind myself of why I fight against the orcs and Azog. With that wretch gone, perhaps it’s time to live again. It’s something to think on.”

In a way, Thorin understood Beorn’s response since he’d had the same doubts and fears since Moria. He’d forced himself to believe that the damned orc had died because his battered soul had needed to hide in that limited measure of safety that belief had provided. Looking back on it, he knew it had been a foolish thing to allow himself to do but now he could let his sister know that the one hunting their line was now confirmed dead in front of witnesses.

“I should write Dis,” he murmured, filling his pipe as he did so. “She needs to know about all of this.”

“I have a bird that can send the message to Rivendell, and they can send it on for you,” their host volunteered, startling the dwarf lord from his thoughts.

“I would appreciate that very much,” Thorin answered. “My sister will have my beard if I do not ensure to send some form of message now that we’ve left Lord Elrond’s home; she should be told the news of Azog’s demise. There was always a shadow of doubt in our minds, and I can now remove that doubt from her.”

“I would hold off until you have the opportunity to speak to Hawthorn,” Gloin recommended, smoking his own pipe for the first time since arriving at Beorn’s. “This way we will not impose too much on the elf lord’s generosity, and Dis will not try to take all of our beards for not telling her the important news if all goes well for you.”

“True enough,” he admitted. “Fili, you two need to write her and let her know you two are doing well and are safe. I’ll enclose it with my own letter; hopefully, that will be enough to ensure she will not indulge in hunting us down whenever our people make the journey from Ered Luin to here.”

“She sounds quite fearsome,” Beorn commented, making the company laugh.

“Our women are certainly that,” Balin answered, chuckling. “They have to be to deal with the stubbornness of their male counterparts, and they are formidable at anything they do. While Thorin rules our people well and wisely, his sister rules the family and we all know that we have to be wise in all that we do or risk her wrath.”

“She’s been known to dent cast iron skillets on the heads of her kinsmen who have been dumb enough to make her angry,” Dwalin shared, rubbing his own head while Fili and Kili did the same to their own.

“That is one dwarrowdam I would like to meet,” the shape shifter chuckled. 

“You may have a chance when the caravan from Ered Luin get here once Erebor is ours,” Fili said, grinning as he did so. “I know Mum will want to meet those who helped us so you can probably expect to have her stop by. I’d keep an eye on the honey though; she’s got a sweet tooth and is known to hoard honey whenever she can.”

“I hope she does stop by and if she does, I will give her a supply of honey to last her a while,” their host replied, looking pleased. 

The conversation went on from there, enjoying the more relaxed atmosphere that had emerged when the news of Hawthorn being free from the fever had been shared. All of them had been worried for the hobbit, and now it was a simple matter of allowing her a chance to rest and recover. Each hoped she would wake soon to help ease the last remnants of worry.

Over the next few days, Hawthorn would wake long enough to drink broth and tea before taking the herbal remedies Oin provide to help her recover from her injury. The periods of wakefulness were slowly becoming longer, and the ones who sat by her bedside were always pleased to see her blue eyes open.

Balin looked up from a book he’d borrowed from his host when he heard the soft sounds of the hobbit lass stirring. He smiled, watching as she rubbed her eyes before focusing on him.

“Balin?”

“It’s good to see you awake,” he said, helping her sit up a little and giving her water to drink. “You’ve more color to your cheeks which is very encouraging.”

“I’m still tired but feel a bit stronger,” she admitted, sipping the water. 

“You will be tired for a while; you were rather ill for several days and healing an injury besides. That’s no easy thing considering how badly you were wounded,” the adviser told her. “Now, are you feeling clear minded or still too tired to focus?”

“Clear minded for once,” Hawthorn replied, passing him the now empty cup. “Is there something on your mind?”

“There is, and it’s rather important or I would wait until later to speak of this with you,” Balin said quietly. “You know I explained courtships but did not go further into how they end?”

“You said you would explain the traditions around betrothal and what follows that once it becomes closer to time,” she answered, tilting her head slightly to watch the dwarf.

“The time for that explanation has come, lass, and I need to know if you feel well enough to hear me out?”

At her nod, Balin began the explanation that he and Oin had been waiting to give. They had agreed that if either of them was in the room when she woke and was clear minded enough to listen then they would be the one to explain this to her.

“Normally, a courtship is ended when both parties feel that they have gotten to know each other enough to recognize that a life together is what they want. One will present a proposal to the other and if it is accepted, the betrothal ceremony will be held. This is usually the method used for such a thing, but there is another way to end a courtship in a less formal way than a proposal.

“This is done by declaring, before witnesses, that the partner belongs to the one making this declaration and publicly acknowledges that the belonging is mutual due to both belonging to each other. This becomes a more serious proposal when it is accompanied by an act of selfless love.”

Hawthorn blinked several times, realizing why Balin had brought this up.

“I did that, didn’t I? By protecting him and acknowledging that we belong to each other, I essentially proposed to him while on the cliff.”

“You did, but there is something you should know. Thorin is aware that you had no idea what your actions mean to our people and is willing to allow the courtship to remain unchanged should you deem yourself not ready for a betrothal,” Balin told her. 

She was silent for several long moments, and the adviser remained quiet as well to allow her the chance to think about what he’d shared with her. Even though it was against tradition, Balin agreed with Thorin’s offer to allow Hawthorn’s actions to be overlooked for now since the courtship was so new and the lass hadn’t known that there could be more seen into what she had done against Azog than what she had intended.

“Thorin’s people are to be my people,” the hobbit murmured, voice quiet. “I’ve been adopted into a dwarrow family and am happy with that. If I’m to live and be a part of the community in Erebor, then I need to follow the traditions that Mahal bestowed upon His children. I may not have known what my actions would cause, but I will follow them just the same. I spoke the truth when I said he is mine and I am his. He is my cariad, and I will not ignore the other half of my soul.”

Balin gave her a proud look, feeling his throat tighten with emotion. She would make a remarkable queen because she was so determined to do right by the people of her soulmate. Mahal and Yavanna had truly blessed his king, and he knew that Thorin was appreciative of this blessing.

“I’ll pass your answer on to Thorin and your family,” he told her, going on to describe the betrothal ceremony and what she could expect to happen after it had been concluded.

Hawthorn listened to his words, acknowledging what would happen before leaving Beorn’s, and she also asked about the traditions around weddings for the dwarrow. She had no desire to unknowingly do something that could change things further for her and Thorin, and she also wanted to be prepared for what would be coming once Erebor was reclaimed.

After Balin had answered all of her questions, the adviser left the room to find Thorin and inform him of the hobbit’s decision regarding the betrothal. The king-in-exile entered the bedroom a short while later, approaching the bed and placing a soft kiss on her cheek before taking a seat on the chair.

“Balin told you about my decision,” she asked, watching him carefully.

“He did,” the dwarf replied. “I had hoped you would agree to this but wanted to ensure your wishes were carried out if you felt you were not ready for this step. I want your happiness, Hawthorn, and I would give anything to see to it that everything goes in such a way so I can help you obtain your heart’s desires.”

“When you told Balin that you would not hold my actions as a betrothal if I asked for that, you proved that you have placed my happiness and well-being over your own. That means a great deal to me, Thorin.”

“You are my One,” he said quietly. “You are the other half of my heart and soul; I would sooner be shorn of my beard and braids than to do anything that would cause you pain or grief.”

“As you are my cariad, I must go forward and do all I can to aid you and your people,” Hawthorn told him. “They will be ours to tend to, and I want nothing more than to be accepted by them as I have by my adopted family and the company. This means doing the right thing and following your traditions.”

Her voice trailed off as he reached out, taking her hand in his, and it took a moment to admit the reason that had just entered her thoughts. Her voice was soft, and there was a blush that rose in her cheeks as she shared the final reason for accepting this.

“There’s also the fact that this makes for a more romantic approach to our betrothal, and it will be a story to share with others as time passes,” the hobbit admitted.

Thorin pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, and he smiled at her. His heart felt so full at that moment in time, and he was silently sending prayers of gratitude to every Valar that might have had a hand in ensuring this beautiful lass was his.

“You should write it down so that the story can be read by dwarrow in the future so they will know of the incredible actions the Queen of Erebor took to protect her One and begin to bind him to her,” he answered, smiling even wider as the blush in her cheeks burned even darker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note - Thorin, you are a bit more romantic than you think! He always surprises me when I’m focusing on his character during a chapter! I hope everyone enjoyed it. Thank you for reading; please let me know what you think of it. See everyone next chapter! ~ Laran


	26. Betrothal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – Thank you so much for the words of support and the amazing reviews you guys left for me. It’s hard for those who don’t write to understand just how much the encouragement helps. So again, thank you. Nano is going well; I’m almost at 35k and feeling great about it! Mom, who betas for me, is anxious to read what I’ve gotten done so far.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

When Thorin shared the news that the betrothal would occur as soon as Oin gave his permission and everything was readied for the ceremony, there was a loud outburst of joy from the company. Fili and Kili leaped onto him, hugging him tightly as they whispered their happiness in the knowledge their uncle would no longer have to walk this life alone. Thorin didn’t scold them for the over-eager hug and held them close, murmuring his gratitude for their concerns and happiness for him.

Dori worked hard to finish sewing the clothes Hawthorn needed as well as the one important piece required in the betrothal ceremony. He wanted to ensure their hobbit would be kept warm and made sure to do his best. His brothers helped where they could, mostly by ensuring he had a full cup of tea within reach at all times and keeping the others out of his way.

The company passed the time in helping Beorn ready his home for winter, repairing anything that was showing signs of needing it, and the shape shifter was grateful for it. While he tended his home and equipment well, he wasn’t a craftsman and the dwarrow he was hosting were able to either repair or remake the items that had taken damage over the years. He knew they were doing it to repay his generosity as well as keeping themselves busy so the waiting for the betrothal ceremony wouldn’t seem as long.

Hawthorn was allowed on her feet a few days after the fever passed, and Dori had presented her with breast bindings, an undershirt of pale blue that laced up, and a tunic of dark blue. The layers would help her stay warm during the rest of their journey, and he was pleased by how well they fit the hobbit. He’d had to use her heavy coat for an estimate of her size.

The looks of joy on the faces of the company, especially Thorin, made her heart lighten when she carefully entered the main room. Granted, she had to lean against Oin to keep herself steady on her feet but it was progress that all of them could take pleasure in seeing. She was so pleased to see them, the hobbit didn’t notice the preparations that had been made for the betrothal ritual or the meal that had been prepared to celebrate both it and her being well enough to be able to leave her bed.

Oin guided her to a seat, helping her sit down. Her range of motion was still very stiff due to the healing injury, and she would need assistance until the wound was fully healed. The entire company had been informed of this, warning them not to allow her to move too quickly or suddenly until the missing wizard returned to give permission for more activity.

Once she was seated, Balin looked at the hobbit with a soft smile.

“We have everything set up to perform the betrothal ritual between you and Thorin this evening. Do you feel up to it tonight, Hawthorn?”

“I do,” she answered, giving a beautiful smile that made her eyes light up.

It was the first time the company had been able to see a real smile, and all of them were taken aback by the beauty of it. Thorin had been treated to it before, and he was once again struck by the desire to ensure that smile was seen more frequently. He preferred that beautiful expression over the tiny smiles they had seen so often since meeting her.

The group of dwarrow moved to stand in a circle, watching as Thorin carefully drew her to her feet and led her to stand in the center of the circle with him. He kept her hands in his for several moments, voice soft as he addressed her.

“Oin will be performing the ritual; he isn’t just our healer but also a Reader, meaning he is blessed by Mahal and can perform rituals when a priest is absent,” he said quietly. “Balin said he explained everything?”

“He did,” she answered softly. “He taught me what I needed to know for this ritual and answered some questions I had as well.”

Thorin pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles before releasing her hand, and they both turned to face Oin.

“Why have you come before me,” the healer asked, watching the couple as he began the ritual.

“Master Reader, we come before you so that we may be brought together. Our wish is to become One as Mahal and Yavanna did before the creation of our people,” Thorin answered. 

“This daughter of Yavanna is the One crafted for you?”

“She is my One, the other half of my heart and soul,” the dwarf lord replied, voice showing confidence in his responses. 

“Have you courted in the ways Mahal laid down for us,” Oin asked.

“We have, and my One has ended the courtship by claiming me as hers and herself as mine through both word and deed,” Thorin told him.

“Daughter of Yavanna, is it your wish to bind yourself to this son of Mahal through betrothal?”

“I wish it,” she replied. “He is my cariad – the one created to complete me in every way.”

Oin was handed a blade from Kili, one forged by Thorin while the company had waited for Hawthorn to become strong enough to leave her sickbed. The healer prayed in khuzdul over the dagger, asking for Mahal’s blessings as the bond would begin to form this evening between the two He had crafted. The metal heated between his hands and once the prayer was done, he handed the dagger to his daughter.

Hawthorn took the blade, hiding her surprise at the heat that radiated from the metal. It wasn’t unbearable but held a feeling that was nearly staggering at the depth of power that lingered in the etched blade. She swallowed, fingers tightening on the hilt as she looked up into the dark blue eyes of her cariad and held her free hand out.

“From this moment forward, my heart and soul are yours to protect and treasure as we step forward side by side to wait for the time when we are forged as One as our creators have ordained,” she began, repeating the words Balin had taught her. “Will you be mine and allow me to be the strength that sustains you as you protect and guide our people?”

Thorin rested his left hand in her hand, palm up as he answered her.

“I will allow myself to lay down the worries and troubles at our door so that I can accept the strength you offer me. I am yours, crafted for you by Mahal,” he answered, watching as she dragged the tip of the dagger over his palm, the sharpness slicing through the calloused skin and drawing blood.

The dwarf lord took the blade with his right hand, holding his injured one out while he spoke.

“From this moment on, I accept your heart and soul and offer my own for you to protect and treasure as we step forward side by side to wait for the time when we are forged as One as our creators have ordained,” he told her. “Will you be mine and allow me to be the strength that sustains you as you nurture and sustain our people?”

Hawthorn rested her left hand on his wrist, palm up, and met his eyes as she answered him with a strong voice.

“I will allow myself to lay down the worries and troubles at our door so that I can accept the strength you offer me. I am yours, grown for you by Yavanna,” she replied, watching as he drew the tip of the dagger over her palm and drew blood.

Kili stepped forward, taking the weapon from his uncle and backing several steps away while Fili and Gloin approached the couple. When Hawthorn and Thorin pressed their left hands together, wounded palms pressed tightly together so as to share blood between the couple, both Fili and Gloin began winding a blue ribbon embroidered with silver runes around the two hands.

“Blood to blood, heart to heart, soul to soul, we walk this path Mahal and Yavanna have set us upon,” the couple spoke in unison. “Today, our courtship ends and we now journey to our wedding day. From this moment on, we are now forged as One as our makers intended us to be. May our makers protect and guide us as we walk this path, and may we always find that our greatest treasure is the heart that beats in unison with our own.”

The runes on the ribbon began glowing as the pair spoke, giving another sign of the magic that lay within the ritual Mahal had gifted His children was working. The light faded, leaving the pair to stare at each other for a long moment before Thorin leaned in to press a kiss to her lips.

Hawthorn’s eyes closed, a shiver racing down her spine at the feeling of his lips against hers. His beard was soft where it brushed against her skin, adding another shiver to travel down her spine. 

Her eyes opened when he slowly pulled away, finding him watching her with a look that held an ember of heat burning in those dark blue depths. Apparently, he’d been affected by the kiss as she had and she was glad to see to it. If her first kiss has been this amazing, she hoped that the kisses they shared from now on would be equally as wonderful.

Thorin smiled, pressing a kiss to their bound hands before unwinding the ribbon. When their hands separated, there was no sign of the wounds or the blood that had been drawn.

All eyes were on them as he began to weave the betrothal braid into her hair, replacing the courtship braid with the more intricate sign of their future nuptials. This one started on the right side of her head and crossed to her left side to hang amongst the curls. The ribbon that had been used in the ritual was woven into the braid, blending beautifully amongst the tawny colored hair, and he sealed the long braid with the clasp that he’d forged for the courtship braid. She would carry the ribbon in her hair until their wedding day, and the blade used for their ritual would remain with him until he was called to join his ancestors in Mahal’s Halls.

Once the braid was finished, Thorin kissed her once more, cupping her face with gentle hands. He could feel the bond starting to form between them and knew it would continue to grow, settling into its full form once they shared a bed as husband and wife. He relished the idea of being able to sense her and wondered just how strong the bond would become between now and their wedding day.

Cheers rang through the air when the kiss ended, and they were both surrounded by the company. Happy cries of well wishes for them filled the room, and their host and the wizard also added their wishes for a happy future. As he and his betrothed were guided to the table to enjoy the celebratory meal, Thorin’s gaze moved to the faces of each member of his company and prayed to Mahal that he would be able to provide more happy occasions for his people and his future wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – I called Oin a Reader since it was mentioned in the first Hobbit movie that he read the portents so I figured that those with the gift of divination and the like, using rune stones, would be known as a Reader. They would have access to rituals and do things if the priests are not available to do so. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter; please let me know what you thought of it. ~ Laran


	27. Correspondence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – I’m happy to declare that I broke 50,000 words for Nanowrimo so I’m now returning my attention to current projects. I’ve got over twenty chapters for a new Hobbit story, and I’ll be doing fine tuning for it once I finish a WIP already posted. For my American readers, Happy Thanksgiving!
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

Hawthorn spent the rest of her recovery slowly regaining her strength under the watchful eyes of the company and their host. She went for walks, often with Thorin, and slowly began practicing with her weapons again to try to build strength and flexibility in the area that had been injured. Her betrothed, his nephews, Balin, and Dwalin often worked with her, and Oin and Gandalf stayed close at hand so she would not overdo it and rip her stitches.

Now that they were betrothed, the presence of a chaperone was not as intrusive as it had been during the time they had spent together during their courtship. She knew it was because the only other way of a betrothal ending was due to the death of a partner because the slow bonding of the souls of the betrothed couple was irreversible. The Valar had joined them together, and Hawthorn had to wonder what it meant for couples who were of different races that had been formed as cariad. She was quick to pull her thoughts away from that, not liking the idea of being away from Thorin once Mandos called them away from life on Arda.

Radagast’s arrival had been productive since he’d deemed her healed enough for the stitches to be removed. She’d stayed quiet during the removal of the stitches, watching as another ointment and a lighter bandage was applied to the healing injury. The hobbit had thanked him for helping her and saving her life. The wizard watched her for a moment, voice gentle.

“Daughter of Yavanna, you are well loved by the Valië who created you,” the Istar said softly, resting a calloused hand over her smaller one. “She has chosen you to help Her husband’s children, and I will lend my aid when I can. All I ask is that you ensure Her creations are taken care of as you help provide a home for Mahal’s children.”

“That I can do,” she answered in a voice just as soft. “All I can offer is what little advice I have to give while the others are rebuilding the farms and helping the land heal; I stopped gardening in my tweens after I was injured and simply grew my herbs in my window boxes. Because of that, I don’t have the same knowledge as most hobbits do.”

“You were taught to show respect for all things living and grown,” the brown wizard told her. “Teach them to have the same, and Yavanna will help with the lands the dragon burned. I will come to show them what needs to be done, but the respect must come from the people in power. While the dwarrow care for things that lay beneath the stone, they respect their creator’s wife and will do what they can to help Her creations because you will show them it is all right to do so.”

Her blue eyes looked up at the wizard for a moment, nodding in agreement. She would do what she could to help her future husband’s people survive, which meant some of the dwarrow would have to help the men of Dale prepare the lands for farming. Radagast and the men couldn’t do it alone.

“I’ll do all I can to help,” she promised, realizing she might have another resource to call upon as well.

“Good,” he said, gently patting her shoulder. “I should go, there’s more work to be done. Just take it easy and listen to your body. If it hurts, rest. It’ll heal well if you listen carefully.”

“I will; thank you for help, Master Radagast,” the hobbit told him, giving him a deep curtsey to show her respect for him.

The wizard grinned at her, then disappeared on his sled. Once she was alone, she went back into the house and asked Ori if he had writing supplies. Fortunately, he did so she accepted them and sat at the table to write the letter that would help her future husband’s people.

~To the Thain of the Shire,

Dear Uncle Isengrim,

As I write to you, I am currently a guest of a very kind man named Beorn. His home lies over the Misty Mountains but before the forest called Mirkwood. I am doing well and have happy news to share with you.

I found my cariad, uncle! I thought I never would, but it seems the Valar decided otherwise since he’s a member of the company I’m traveling with. I assure you, everything has been done properly and Mithrandir has watched over everything to ensure nothing untoward happens. I wanted to share my news of finding my cariad and tell you that I’m now betrothed. He knows of my problems and accepts me for who I am.

If all goes well, Erebor will soon be reclaimed and home again to the dwarrow of Durin’s line. The other reason I am writing to you is I need your help with something, uncle. The dwarrow living in Ered Luin are in need of food to help them flourish through the winter, and I know that hobbits are in need of tools repaired or even replaced. Would you please see to it that my future husband’s people will have enough food to last the winter so they can go through the cold months without the threat of hunger or illness? They are proud so charity will not be accepted, but I have confidence you can come up with a fair trade.

I was also hoping you would be willing to send what seeds and seedlings that can be spared to Erebor once the dwarrow of Ered Luin make the trip from the Blue Mountains to Erebor. The land outside the mountain has lain fallow for all this time, and it is our duty as children of the Green Lady to help where we can. Supplies for the people as well as everything needed to restart the farms and orchards would be a huge help if it can be spared. Advice in helping the soil waken and thrive would also be greatly appreciated as there will be two communities relying on these new farms for survival.

Uncle, these people have not flourished as the husband of our Lady would want them to. Their birthrate is too low, and I fear it is partly due to the lack of good food. Valar willing, a safe home will be provided soon but the food issue will be a problem for some time. I very much want to see them thrive!

I am hopeful that you will be able to help the dwarrow as they are our siblings and neighbors. Their creator, Lord Mahal, is the husband of our own Green Lady. I know She would approve of any aid Her children could provide. 

If you agree with my thoughts on this, please contact Lady Dis, daughter of Thrain, in Ered Luin. She will have the authority to negotiate any trade between their people and ours. If she asks of why you have approached her, tell her that your niece travels with her brother, Thorin Oakenshield, and the rest of her family. Please let her know that her kin are doing well, and we are preparing for departure to face the next leg of our journey.

Thank you, dear uncle, and know that I love you and the rest of the family.

May the Green Lady watch over you,

Hawthorn Baggins.~

She heard a slight scuff of the chair beside her being moved and looked over to find Thorin focused on his own correspondence. The hobbit had heard him mentioning writing his sister to inform her of their betrothal, and she hoped Lady Dis would be pleased for her brother. 

The king-in-exile sensed her watching him and looked up, giving her a gentle smile that lit up his eyes.

“Something you wanted, Hawthorn?”

“I’ve finished my letter, and I would like you to read it,” she told him, sliding the parchment over to him. “I hope I haven’t overstepped my boundaries.”

Thorin frowned slightly, taking the parchment and reading it. The frown disappeared, giving way to an expression of awe and shock for a few moments. He looked up at her once more, and his voice was rough as he spoke to her.

“You are truly amazing, my One,” he said softly. “If your uncle agrees to this, it will make the winter easier for my sister and people.”

“That is my hope, Thorin, and if uncle does agree to all of it, this will make it easier for the two communities to begin farming,” she replied. “There’s always a surplus of seed; it wouldn’t hurt the farmers in the Shire to trade it for equipment and the help of the dwarven crafters for things the hobbits can’t make.

“As a daughter of Yavanna, it’s my responsibility to see the land taken care of. Physically, I’m not capable of it and I don’t have all of the knowledge for growing things that most hobbits do. This is one way I can not only see to my responsibility as a hobbit but also as a future citizen of Erebor. There are going to be hungry people, and the supplies and seeds will go a long way in taking care of them.”

Thorin set the letter down, taking her hands and pressing kisses to each palm and fingertip before resting his forehead against hers.

“That Mahal and Yavanna could render such a perfect heart to complete mine,” he murmured. “I am completely humbled by such an amazing One. You, my beautiful Hawthorn, are an amazing hobbit and I can only hope to be worthy of you.”

“I only want my cariad, Thorin,” she answered, leaning against him as he kept his forehead to hers. “We are already worthy of each other because that was how Yavanna and Mahal grew and made us to be. Never doubt that please.”

“I will try to remember your words,” he promised, closing his eyes for a long moment. “Thank you for thinking of our people and believing enough in this quest to start preparations for what will be needed to feed the two kingdoms affected by the dragon.”

“I want this mission to succeed as badly as the rest of the company does, Thorin,” Hawthorn told him. “I refuse to accept failure because I know how desperately your…..our people need to return to the safety of Erebor. I want to see the kingdom return to life and hear the songs of Durin’s Folk echo within the halls of your mountain. Life will return to Erebor, and we will see it done.”

In the face of her determination, the king-in-exile could only kiss his future queen and thank the Valar for the gift of this wonderful hobbit. With her and the company at his side, Erebor would be theirs again and Hawthorn’s wishes would become reality!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note - She acts like a queen already and doesn’t realize it. I think Thorin and the company will be able to point it out to her in time. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Again, Happy Thanksgiving to my American readers. Please be safe traveling and watch out for those who have no common sense and will insist on driving while drunk. Take care, and I will see you all again next chapter. ~ Laran


	28. Camping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – We’re out of Beorn’s now but still a bit in transition before Mirkwood. We’ll be hitting that next week with the new chapter. You guys are awesome; I really hope you know that! Thank you so much for your support and kind words with every review.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story. The song used in this story is “Evening Falls” and is owned by Enya. I don’t own or make money from the song; I’m simply borrowing it!

It had not been easy to take their leave from their host, and Thorin told Beorn that he would always be welcome in Erebor once the mountain was theirs again. He meant it too because he knew his One would not have survived if the shape changer had not provided assistance. This was a debt he could never repay, and he was very much aware of it.

The company rode towards the forest, leaving the safety of Beorn’s lands and entering a wild area where they could gather game to supplement the supplies given to them. The shape shifter had suggested taking a day or two to do such a thing, knowing that not everyone could stay to the same dietary restrictions he himself did. Thorin dismounted, going to help Hawthorn from her pony, and he caught the stricken expression on her face.

“What troubles you, Hawthorn?”

“Too much was lost in the goblin caves,” she answered, steadying herself by leaning against him for a moment after her feet had touched the ground. “I just thought of one that may end up being something we will need. The letter from Lord Elrond was one of the items lost, and that would have gone a long way in keeping us out of trouble while in Mirkwood.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Gandalf answered, overhearing her words as he aided in setting up camp. “There is no love lost between Elrond and Thranduil, and I have my doubts as to whether or not my dear friend’s missive would be of use in the forest.”

“Erestor had said something about them not really getting along, but I thought he was embellishing things,” the hobbit told him.

“Would that you were right, my dear, but unfortunately, Thranduil has a lot of grievances against the other elven realms. Some might be considered to have merit while others would be viewed as someone jealous of others,” the Istar stated, guiding her to a place to sit down since he knew Thorin and the others would be preparing to hunt.

“I have no desire to run into the elf king,” Hawthorn admitted in a quiet tone. “Given what I discovered while in Rivendell, Mithrandir, I don’t believe I could hold my tongue and not let him know exactly what I think of him and his so-called grievances. What he has done is unforgivable, and the Valar will have much to say to him for his actions and inactions when the time comes.”

The wizard met her gaze for several long moments before his eyes softened and he gave her a loving smile. He rested a gentle hand against her cheek, leaving it there for several moments.

“Truly, my dear Hawthorn, you have the greatest heart and spirit Yavanna has ever gifted to Her children,” he told her, making the hobbit blush. “You are exactly what Thorin and his people need.”

“I think it’s more that he’s what I need,” she answered freely. “He’s courageous, strong, and kind; I am so very lucky to have such a wonderful person as my cariad. He knows about my issues, Mithrandir, and he doesn’t see me as a halfling or something lesser than that.”

“Never use that word in reference to yourself again, my girl,” Gandalf scolded lightly. “You are exactly as you should be, and I will not hear of anyone calling you that – even yourself.”

Her head ducked for a moment, lifting when he gently pressed her chin upwards to force her to meet his eyes.

“I am incredibly happy for you, my dear, because I have wanted to see you find your cariad and be as blissfully in love as your parents were,” he continued. “I fully expect a wedding invitation, and I promise that you will have the grandest fireworks display to celebrate.”

“Just having you there is more than enough for me,” Hawthorn replied, giving him a smile when he chuckled. 

“True but this will be an occasion that will call for the best I have ever done. You are a granddaughter to me so allow me this chance to spoil you as you deserve,” the wizard stated, chuckling when she blushed and acceded to his request. “Good, now I fear I must speak of darker things before our paths diverge. I do not have time to examine the item you found in the caves so I must ask you to keep it with you until I return and can determine just what it is.”

“The sooner, the better,” the hobbit told him. “I felt sickened after I wore it briefly, Mithrandir, and I dislike having it so close to me. While invisibility could be useful, I have no desire to wear it again. It’s unnatural and so very unnerving.”

“I promise it will be taken care of once it’s identified. Magical items have to be disposed of in the proper way or things could become rather unpleasant,” he assured her. “As for the other, keep a sharp eye on the company. Radagast and Beorn both spoke of Mirkwood, and the news was worrying. It will not be an easy journey, especially for you as hobbits have a bond with the earth and all things that grow. You must keep them on the path.”

“I will do my best,” she promised.

“I know you will,” the wizard told her, giving a gentle smile. “I expect to hear the tales of your travels through the woods and to Laketown upon my return.”

“I expect to hear of your own adventure,” the hobbit retorted, making him chuckle. “It has to be something important to pull your attention away from the mountain and its pest problem so please be careful, Mithrandir.”

“I will do my best,” Gandalf promised, hugging her close for several moments. “You’ve started smiling again, little blossom, and I hope to hear you sing tonight.”

At the nickname she’d not heard in so long, Hawthorn granted him another smile that she’d not felt the urge to give since the attack and subsequent injury. Being amongst the company and finding her cariad had been life changing for her, and she could hope that the emotional wounds she’d carried for so long would finally heal.

“I think I can be persuaded to do so,” she told him, getting up to help Bombur prepare the ingredients for tonight’s meal once the hunters returned.

The hunters had been successful, bringing in several different types of game, and Hawthorn helped where she could to prepare the meat so it wouldn’t spoil. She’d also gone over the food some of the others had managed to discover, ensuring they were safe to eat. All in all, it had been a successful day and she knew her betrothed would probably send the group out to hunt again to ensure there would not be a problem with food while in Mirkwood.

The meal passed with a great deal of laughter and stories, and Gandalf gave Hawthorn an expectant look once the food had been eaten and dishes washed. He had been quite serious about hoping to hear her sing tonight, and she knew he would be disappointed if she refused.

“I take it you’re wanting me to sing tonight, Mithrandir?”

“If you don’t mind indulging an old man,” he answered, eyes twinkling.

“I suppose,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Would you mind singing the one you wrote and sang before we reached Rivendell,” Ori asked, making her smile.

Hawthorn nodded, drawing in a breath and began to sing.

“When the evening falls and the daylight is fading, from within me calls, could it be I am sleeping? For a moment I stray, then it holds me completely. Close to home – I cannot say. Close to home, feeling so far away. As I walk the room, there before me a shadow from another world, where no other can follow. Carry me to my own, to where I can cross over. Close to home – I cannot say. Close to home, feeling so far away. Forever searching; never right. I am lost in oceans of night. Forever hoping I can find memories, those memories I left behind. Even though I leave will I go on believing that this time is real – am I lost in this feeling? Like a child passing through, never knowing the reason. I am home- I Know the way. I am home – feeling oh, so far away.”

“You’ve got a talent for writing songs,” Balin said with a soft smile. “Makes me glad I snapped you up for the Scrivener’s Guild before someone from the music guild found out. Are there a lot of song writers in the Shire?”

“Not really, most music in the Shire revolves around food or drink, and so people simply keep to the classics. I preferred to branch out a bit more. My parents encouraged me, and I learned a lot from Lindir regarding music,” she answered.

“It’s a good thing,” Bofur commented. “Now, I think we need to liven things up a bit.”

Those who still had their instruments began to play, filling the air with the lively tune that the hat wearing dwarf had started. Kili began singing, launching into a rather funny song about a dwarf warrior trying to woo a very stubborn dwarrowdam; he was translating it to sing in Westron so Hawthorn could understand it. She was giggling at the lyrics, shaking her head at the antics of the company.

When the song ended, she clapped and then blinked when Bifur made a comment. Bombur chuckled and nodded.

“He’s right; we should have some fun tonight and enjoy the music properly.”

“How does one do that,” Hawthorn asked, tilting her head slightly.

“Dancing,” Dwalin answered. “Do hobbits not dance?”

“Oh they do,” she replied. “Our dances are usually more along the lines of jigs and a few couple’s styled ones. How about dwarrow dances?”

“We have a mix of formal to informal,” Thorin replied. “Music and dancing are good entertainment for everyone and always lifts the spirits on the darkest of nights.”

“I think we should teach Hawthorn some of our dances while we have the time,” Gloin suggested, knowing his niece would need to know their dances for the ball after the wedding and coronation. 

“I don’t know that I could do the faster paced ones,” she told them.

“True but the slower ones are nice,” Fili commented. “They’re used often for formal events and will be used for the ball that’ll be held after the wedding so you’ll need to learn those.”

Thorin rose to his feet, walking over to his betrothed. He bowed, offering her his hand as he did so.

“May I have this dance, my lady?”

“I haven’t danced in years,” she warned. “I’ll be a disaster to teach because I’m out of practice and not as agile as I should be.”

“You’ll be just fine,” he told her, helping her to her feet.

Hawthorn watched as he demonstrated the steps, chewing her lower lip as she tried to commit the steps to memory. Outside of playing for her parents after her injury and occasionally dancing with her parents, she’d not danced with anyone before and after losing them, she’d forgotten about dancing at all since she had never been invited to those parties.

Once she felt somewhat confident, Thorin guided her into the dance and helped her through the steps whenever she managed to get a little confused at times. He smiled at her mistakes, eyes shining in combined light of the setting sun and the fire, but not once did he laugh at her. 

It was a memory Hawthorn would cherish forever; she danced with him for two songs before Fili laughingly stole her away from his uncle, and a round of pass the hobbit began as she would dance for a few moments with one dwarf before another would steal her away. It went on for a while before she pleaded exhaustion, eventually going to her bedroll. The hobbit fell asleep, dreaming of blue eyes and a deep voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note - Transition piece but since we’re going into a darker area of the story, I felt a bit a light hearted fluff was needed before we plunge into the dark of Mirkwood. I hope everyone enjoyed this. Thank you so much for reading; please let me know what you thought of the chapter! See everyone next week. ~ Laran


	29. Into Mirkwood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – It’s funny how many people have commented on how they want Hawthorn to handle Mirkwood, especially Thranduil. I’ll be honest; I decided to have a bit more personal growth for our favorite hobbit lass over a blow up. I didn’t want to follow “A Hobbit’s Rescue” since Adamanta had her blow up while IN Mirkwood with the king. Never fear, Hawthorn will have her chance to have her say in regards to Thranduil and the consequences of it will be a game changer. I’ve written past that part already, and I feel very pleased with it.
> 
> In the meantime, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

Two days after that wonderful night, the company of Thorin Oakenshield stood outside of the forest that had been once called the Green Wood. Hawthorn stood beside her pony, leaning on her staff as she stared at the thick forest.

“Hawthorn?”

Without turning, she answered Balin, sharing her thoughts on what was disturbing her.

“This forest is sick; I thought the woods outside of Buckland were bad, but this is darker and more ominous in how it feels. I don’t see how anyone could live here, much less elves since they have such a strong bond with nature.”

“I’ve no idea why Thranduil allowed it to get this bad,” the adviser commented. “It can’t be good for his people.”

“No, it can’t be,” she murmured. “I dread going into this place, Balin. Hobbits are tied to the earth; Yavanna created us to be the nurturers of the smaller things that Her ents could not watch over. I have no idea what to expect here.”

“Nor do I, but I will alert the others so we can keep an eye on you. You’re still stiff from your injury, and we don’t need you becoming ill,” Balin answered, heading to share his worries with the rest of the company.

She stood there, staring into the dark forest and not saying a word until Gloin stepped beside her.

“Balin told us you might have problems there,” he stated. “Your father and I want you to tell us the second you start feeling ill.”

“I will, uncle,” she replied quietly. “I don’t like the idea of going in there, but I know that we’d never make it to Erebor by the deadline if we tried to go around the forest.”

Gloin nodded, walking beside her as the company entered the miserable looking forest. All of them were quiet, not liking the darkness or the odd feelings of evil that seemed to permeate their surroundings.

“I hope we can get through this quickly,” Dori commented, shaking his head at the state of the woods. “I don’t like the idea of being in here too long.”

“Mahal willing, we’ll be through this as swiftly as possible,” Balin agreed. “I remember this forest as being healthy and lush; I cannot understand how it has come to such a state as it’s in now.”

“It could be why Gandalf had to leave,” Bombur commented. “Maybe he’s checking on the source of the problem?”

“Whatever it is that forced him from our company, I hope he succeeds in his mission swiftly so he can return to us,” Thorin replied from his position at the head of the group. “It was obvious that he wished to remain, but I remember well that he has to obey orders from the White Wizard and the council he serves.”

At the mention of Saruman, Hawthorn shuddered. She still felt unnerved whenever she thought of the Istar and the brief encounter she’d had with him. Something about him did not sit well with her, and she sincerely hoped that her path would not cross with his once again. Although, that did bring up a question in her mind.

“After Erebor is reclaimed, will we have much interactions with the White Council?”

“I doubt there will be any face to face interactions often,” the king-in-exile told his betrothed. “Even though he is here to carry out Mahal’s will, it was rare that we had dealings with Saruman. There might have been a few letters passed between Erebor and Lothlórien or Imladris during my grandfather’s time on the throne, but they sent representatives should a meeting need to take place. We mostly dealt with the men of Dale as well as the elves here.”

“Good,” she answered, making Balin stare at her for a moment.

“Good,” he asked. “Why is it a good thing?”

“I have heard a great deal about the White Wizard during my time in Lord Elrond’s home,” the hobbit replied, frowning in the darkness that filled the area despite being midday. “It’s known he has no patience or love for races that are not elvish or Istari, and he made me feel incredibly uncomfortable when I accidentally ran into him while we were in Imladris. I would feel safer and more comfortable knowing that he will not be entering Erebor.”

“That’s a bit odd, isn’t it? For a wizard that represents Mahal to have no liking for other races,” Kili asked. “You’d think he’d be the tolerant one considering what our Maker’s children have faced, you know?”

“You would think so, but we tend to keep away from others too,” Fili reminded his brother. “Maybe it’s why he is how he is?”

“Yes but you were accepting of me,” Hawthorn pointed out. “Despite the tension between dwarrow and elves, you were still somewhat polite around the elves of Imladris.”

“That’s because they’re nothing like the elves we’ve met before,” Nori informed her. “They actually offered to help and meant it. It’s easier to tolerate elves who are actually genuine in their actions. I’ve heard the elves of Lothlórien keep to themselves about as much as the ones here so it’s possible they share the same view of outsiders. Elrond is accepting of people in his home, which is why it’s known as a Homely House.”

“Mama only met the elves of Imladris,” she replied. “I only know what Glorfindel or the others think of the other elvish realms. They’re respectful of the elves of Lothlórien, but that could be because the lady holds one of the elvish rings of power and is incredibly powerful in the gifts she possesses. The lord and lady are also the parents of Lord Elrond’s wife, Celebrian, and that would be another reason as to why the elves of Imladris hold them in respect.”

“I had no idea the two realms were joined,” Dori commented, a bit interested in the conversation despite the topic.

“It’s not spoken of much. Lady Celebrian was attacked on her way to Lothlórien to visit her parents and was held captive by orcs for a time. Elrond and his sons were able to rescue her and although he was able to heal her physical wounds, the family could do nothing for the wounds to her soul. She went on to Valinor to heal while she waits for her family to join her there,” Hawthorn shared. 

“If that had happened to Mum, I think I’d be trying to kill every orc I found,” Kili growled, sidestepping a root that had grown across the path.

“The twins do,” she told him. “Elrohir and Elladan spend quite a lot of time in hunting parties or with the Dúnedain to thin out the orc numbers. There’s always a form of natural animosity between elves and orcs, but the elves of Imladris have a deeper loathing for the foul creatures.”

“Understandable,” Dwalin grumbled. “Only good orc is a dead one.”

That caused the company to give a low cheer, agreeing with the warrior on that certain piece of philosophy. Hawthorn only shook her head, smiling just a bit as she carefully made her way down the path with the dwarrow.

The conversation died down for a while as the group continued to walk along the elven road, and she eventually found herself walking beside Thorin. She smiled up at him, glad to be able to spend some time with him even with the company around them.

“Tired of being up front for now,” she asked, feeling warm inside at the low chuckle he gave before answering.

“It occurred to me that I haven’t spent much time with you today,” he told her. “So I let Dwalin and Balin take over for a while so I could walk with you.”

“You will probably be teased by one or both of them for that later,” Hawthorn warned, knowing how close Thorin and the two brothers were.

“I have no doubt of that, but it’s worth it. How are you doing?”

“Truth is, I’ll be better once we’re out of these woods,” she admitted. “I don’t like it at all. Reminds me a bit of when I wore the ring; it’s all unnatural and unnerving. Nature is crying out against it; how the elves don’t hear it, I don’t know. It makes me ache inside.”

“I wish there was a way to keep you from feeling it,” he said softly, not liking that he couldn’t stop what she was sensing.

“A distraction wouldn’t go amiss,” Hawthorn told him.

“How can I help,” he asked.

“I only know of royalty from books,” the hobbit confessed. “I’ve no idea what kings or queens even do outside of sitting on what has to be an uncomfortable throne and look pretty.”

The king-in-exile laughed at that, surprised by her words and greatly amused by them. He knew hobbits didn’t have a king, though the thain came quite close to what Thorin had to do when he was in Ered Luin.

“The governing of the mountain is divided between the king and queen,” he began once his amusement died down. “The queen runs the King’s Hall as well as sees to the daily living of the mountain. The guilds that aid with this will fall under her purview as well. She also sees to it that the guests in the mountain are welcomed and organizes the social events she and her husband must attend. She is also one of the king’s advisers and attends council meetings.”

Running a household was something she somewhat understood since her mother had taught her how to run her own home, but Hawthorn wasn’t too sure she could handle the idea of running the day to day things that kept the mountain going. It seemed like a lot of responsibility, and Thorin reached out to take her hand.

“You won’t be handling things alone,” he promised. “The guilds that fall under your purview will have their own officials to handle things, and they report to the Guild Master. He or she will be the one to report to you if there’s something needed that requires your authorization. 

“You also will be choosing ladies in waiting who will be aiding you as well,” he told her. 

“I make the decision for that,” she asked, looking up at him. “I don’t know anyone outside of the company.”

“These ladies in waiting will be chosen from the dwarrowdams you feel comfortable with,” Thorin reassured her. “Some of the returning lords might want their daughters or wives to be a part of it because it is considered a high honor to be counted as one of the queen’s ladies in waiting, but you have the right to choose the number you want to attend you and who will fill that number. I can make a recommendation on three of them, provided you feel comfortable with them once you meet them.”

“Your sister,” Hawthorn guessed.

“Dis and Freyis, Gloin’s wife,” he answered. “Both are formidable dwarrowdams and will be loyal to you due to familial connections. Either one of them would be an excellent choice to be your lead lady in waiting and personal adviser. Though not of noble blood, Bombur’s wife has a sharp mind and is very detail oriented. She would also make a strong addition to your ladies in waiting.”

That was sound advice, and she would definitely try to get to know the three dwarrowdams as soon as they arrived to join their families in Erebor. The idea of having so many people vying for her attention was rather unnerving.

“So I get to be one of your advisers as well,” she asked, pulling her thoughts away from her worries about the choices she’d have to make.

“Yes, you will be. In public, we are expected to show solidarity but I will always listen to your opinions on the matters we must address,” he informed her. 

“It makes sense; no one wants to see their queen arguing with the king in public,” Hawthorn said softly. “Will I have a chance to speak to you about things that come up in council meetings before a decision has to be made?”

“I will work with Balin to devise some form of signal that can be given so we’ll know that you and I need to speak on the topic before a decision is given,” Thorin promised. “You have keen insight to things, and I want this to be a partnership between us.”

“I want that too,” the hobbit answered earnestly. “I’ll be honest, this whole thing scares me because I’ve no formal training to do the things you need me to do. I don’t want to make mistakes and cause people to doubt me because that will reflect on you. There’s going to be enough pressure on both of us due to decisions made that others might not like as Erebor begins to live again.”

He pressed a kiss to her hand, hoping to reassure her.

“You won’t be doing this alone, Hawthorn. The family will help in anyway they can, and Dis will be teaching you what you’ll need to know,” he promised. “Balin will be instructing you too so I have no doubt you’ll be quite sick of lessons before too long.”

“I’ll be honest, this frightens me,” she admitted. “I know that people might not like having a hobbit as your wife, especially if and when it gets out that I cannot have children. I don’t like the idea of my issues being used against you when we need to focus on what’s important.”

“You are going to do wonderfully,” he assured her. “You are intelligent, a master in one of our guilds, and so very kind and loving. Courage, loyalty, and a willing heart – those are the important qualities I look for in those around me. You have those in spades, Hawthorn. Let those qualities shine, and I have no doubt you will have more allies than naysayers. If something is said about you being a hobbit or unable to have children, I will handle it because my One deserves respect.”

“I’ll give them a taste of dwarvish iron right up their jacksie,” Ori stated, making Hawthorn giggle and blush as the company approved of the scribe’s words and agreed to do the same.

“I have such loyal and ardent defenders,” she said, blushing all the while. “I hope I can show that I deserve such wonderful companions.”

“You already have, Miss Hawthorn,” Dori said with a smile. “You already have.”

Thorin chuckled as she ducked her head, glad to know that his dwarrow would ensure her safety due to loyalty. She really had integrated herself into the group, and all of them had bonded together into a very tight unit. He was hopeful for a solid resolution for the end of their quest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note - And the journey into Mirkwood has begun! We also got a bit of a look into what’s expected of her after Erebor is reclaimed. I wanted a chance to bring a few details out into the open, including Hawthorn’s worries, and I think it worked. Thanks so much for reading; please let me know what you think of it. See you all next week! ~ Laran


	30. Mirkwood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – I admit, I’m a bit worried about the Mirkwood arc because I decided to focus on a few important factors as Hawthorn is still growing past the mentality she was molded into after her accident. I also think this will bring the company together in more ways than one; hopefully, all of you will agree too! 
> 
> I’m not going into heavy detail on the traveling part of the journey since there are more important parts I want to get to. It didn’t screw with the pacing, and I think it reads well. Hopefully, all of you will enjoy it.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

The optimism that filled the group early on at the start of their journey through Mirkwood flagged as time went by. The darkness continued to thicken and weigh on them, and Hawthorn was growing more skittish as the days passed. She could sense the screaming of the earth and plants around them, and the dwarrow often had to hold her when she dissolved into tears when she couldn’t handle any more of the pain from nature.

It was frustrating to Thorin since there was little he could do to help her, and he mentally cursed the wretched elf king for allowing his kingdom to reach such a point. Did the damned tree-shagger have no pride in his lands?

Food and water eventually ran low as they wandered through the terrible forest, and he worried over the smaller members of the company. Ori, Fili, Kili, and Hawthorn were too small to lose weight, and he mentioned his worries to Oin during one night as they set up camp. The healer had noticed the weight loss, and he offered what herbs he had to try to keep their health stable.

Things became worse when they crossed the enchanted river and the rope they’d been using to pull the boat back and forth snapped. The odd momentum had caught the occupant of the boat off balance, throwing the dwarf into the shallows to where the company had been waiting. Ori had been in a magical sleep for days, worrying his brothers and the company for some time before waking.

Despite her being so off balance emotionally because of their surroundings, Hawthorn had been the one to free them from spiders and had proven her bravery as she cut the huge vermin down, then released all of them from the webbing they had been trapped in. His pride at her actions and bravery was smothered by the appearance of the damned elves; his struggles had ceased when he heard her voice in his ear, whispering too softly for the wretched tree-shaggers to hear.

“I’m with you,” she murmured. “I’m wearing the ring we found in the goblins’ caves so they won’t know I’m with the company. I’ll do what I can to get you out of here once things quiet down enough for me to do so. Do your best to keep them off balance around you; they’ll expect all of you to argue and fight so you’ll need to keep the peace. You have to try to keep the company together if at all possible to make this easier for me.”

Thorin, knowing how much she hated wearing that piece of jewelry, was once again struck by her bravery and gave an order in khuzdul, reminding them that their missing burglar would help once the time was right and not to fight so they could try to keep from being separated once the king had spoken to them. Once they heard what she had suggested, the company ceased their resistance, growling as their weapons were taken by the elves.

“This is no dwarven blade,” the blond in charge of the group of elves commented, staring at Orcrist. “Where did you steal this?”

“It was found amongst a troll hoard and given to me by Lord Elrond,” he answered, voice low.

“Likely story,” the elf sneered, gesturing for the group to move out.

The company kept quiet, saving their strength for the moment since they knew their burglar would find a way to free them from the elves’ custody. They just had to make it as easier for her as possible.

Hawthorn followed, staying silent as the group went through the heavy gates that kept Thranduil’s palace secure from the darkness outside. She was still sensing the screams of nature, even underground, and hoped that she could do what was needed to get her company out of this situation and back on track towards Erebor. The painful cries were ripping at her, and she was both physically and emotionally exhausted.

The hobbit ground her teeth at the confrontation between the dwarrow and the elf king, seething silently as Thranduil tried to bargain his aid for the gems Thror had denied him. Although she knew help from his kingdom would be beneficial to their quest, Hawthorn did not want to see the elf get those gems until he paid for his callousness in denying aid to the wounded and homeless dwarrow. She was furious with him for his actions that fateful day, and she had a few ideas on how to handle him at a later date. Her fury only grew with each snide comment he uttered towards her dwarrow.

When the company was moved to the lower levels, she made a decision to follow them to the cells instead of tracking their gear. The place was too large to try to meander the halls in search of them, and she had no desire to waste time since Durin’s Day was swiftly approaching.

Because they hadn’t fought their captors despite the cruel jeers thrown at them, the jailors placed the dwarrow in cells close together, which she was grateful for since she knew she would have to meander through the palace to find a way to rescue her company.

Once the elves left the area, she stood in front of Thorin’s cell and tugged the ring off of her finger with a shudder. The dwarf lord leaned against the bars, reaching out to gently caress her cheek. He frowned in concern when he felt the coldness coming from her skin.

“Are you all right?”

“I hate this ring,” she answered, very aware of the worried gazes of the company in the cells around her betrothed. “I feel sick inside having to wear it, and it makes the things I’m feeling from the earth a lot worse.”

“I wish you didn’t have to wear it, but I am grateful you have it. Its ability to turn you invisible will be useful for the time we are stuck here as well as keep you safe,” he reassured her.

“I’m glad you didn’t bargain with him,” she whispered. “There are things he needs to do before those gems are given to him.”

“I don’t want to give them to him at all, but they will be key to bargaining his assistance for rebuilding Erebor,” Thorin told her.

“It needs to be on our terms, not his,” Hawthorn agreed. “I don’t dare try to track your weapons down right now; they were taken in an opposite direction, and I didn’t want to lose sight of all of you. Who knows how long it would have taken me to find you if I hadn’t; this place is too big.”

“No, you did the right thing,” Balin assured her. “They’ll notice if you try to sneak our weapons and gear out and even though you have the ring, there’s no telling if they can hear you or not.”

“Watch your shadow,” Nori commented from his cell beside Dwalin’s. “If the shadow can be seen, you’ll need to be doubly cautious. These tree-shaggers are notorious for spotting things when they’re not drunk or contemplating something not important enough to waste time thinking about.”

“I’ll make sure to be cautious about that,” the hobbit agreed, grateful for the advice.

“We’ll save what food for you we can,” Bombur said, knowing she probably wouldn’t be able to scavenge much due to her need to stay hidden. “You and the lads have lost too much weight; we’ve got to get you back to a healthy size.”

The company agreed, keeping their voices down since they didn’t want to draw attention to their area and put their hobbit at risk.

“Rest and recover your strength,” she told them. “I’m going to see if I can find a way out of here. I don’t think they’ll separate you if you stay quiet and don’t try to cause fights.”

“We’ll be as good as mithril. Just be careful, Miss Hawthorn,” Ori said, making her smile at him.

“I will be,” the lass told him. “We’re going to be by that hidden door on Durin’s Day, I promise.”

Before they could respond, she frowned and slipped the ring on. A few moments later, a small group of elves came by to dispense food and water for the company. They said nothing to the prisoners, silently handing out the food before leaving the dwarrow to eat the meals given to them.

Once she was sure they were gone, Hawthorn sighed and slipped the ring off. She couldn’t say a word before she was handed food from each member of the company. Because all of them were sharing just a small item, they still had enough to eat and were able to ensure their hobbit had a full meal too.

Hawthorn sat outside Thorin’s door, eating with them and sharing his water with him. She forced herself to eat slowly as Oin cautioned all of them to do, not wanting to become ill since food had been so scarce.

“The best way to break out of a prison is to learn the guards’ patrol schedule,” Nori advised between bites. “Dwalin and I can help you there. What you’ll need to do is find out where the keys are kept as well as find a way out of this palace.”

Balin nodded, going over what he remembered hearing about the elf king’s palace during his time in Erebor. It had been well over a century since he’d last had cause to think about this place, and it was taking time to review what little he did recall.

“I remember overhearing that the front gate is sealed by magic,” the adviser stated after taking a long drink. 

“There’s no other way out is there,” Hawthorn asked. “I may have studied with the elves, but magic was not part of my curriculum.”

“Not that I recall hearing,” Balin answered. “He seemed particularly proud of the security of the front gate and boasted about it during one of the meetings he had with King Thror.”

“There was mention of a readily available water source,” Thorin said quietly. “Even if they ran out of food during a siege, water would never be an issue. Erebor has something similar because of how the river system works.”

“One way in or out,” she muttered, shaking her head. “What is it with fortress type kingdoms that only use one way to go in or out? Seems rather foolish if the kingdom is invaded. How do you get people out to safety if the only way is under siege?”

“Something I have thought about many a time since we lost Erebor,” the dwarf lord answered. “Once we have the mountain back, I want to have emergency exits made that will be kept secret to only a trusted few. If the mountain is ever attacked again, these people will lead everyone to these exits. If we’d had these to begin with, more of our people would have escaped.”

“It’s a good idea,” Bofur commented. “I’m not sure any of us know what kind of magic was used to keep them from being seen outside though.”

“Easy enough to research if the library wasn’t damaged,” Ori reminded them. “I think there was also a way to bind secret keepers in regards to the doors so the kingdom wouldn’t be betrayed. I remember hearing something about that so I’ll put that on the top of the list of what needs to be researched after I get into the library.”

“Merciful Mahal, I’ll be dragging you and Miss Hawthorn out every day to make sure you two don’t miss meals,” Dori sighed, making the company chuckle quietly. 

“Or hire someone to keep watch over them so they don’t skip meals,” Balin chuckled. “They will forget; I had to go retrieve them from the library several times while we were in Rivendell. Eventually, Erestor helped by keeping track of the time and forcing them to go eat.”

“It’s hard to remember food when the books are so interesting,” Hawthorn replied, blushing a bit at the teasing. “It’s fun when you have a partner to study the books with; Ori and I would discuss what we were reading, and he’d often bring up things I hadn’t thought about.”

“I learned a lot from her too,” the journeyman scribe said with a bright smile. “She’s become my favorite study partner.”

Hawthorn brushed her hair out of her face, leaning back against the bars. Now that her stomach was full, she was feeling her exhaustion.

“I’m going to have to find somewhere to rest,” she said quietly.

“We’ll set a watch,” Dwalin insisted. “You sleep in front of the cell of the one on watch; we’ll wake you if we hear someone coming. It’s not like the elves can sneak up on us here, not with all the stone around us.”

“You’ll have to explain that one later,” the hobbit told him, yawning as she did so.

“I’ll take first watch,” Thorin offered. “Sleep now, Hawthorn. We’ll make sure you stay safe.”

Hawthorn gave him a sleepy smile, curling up in front of Thorin’s cell. She trusted them to ensure she wasn’t discovered and despite the cacophony coming from the tormented earth and plants, she drifted off to a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – It’s bit of a team effort since she’s such a novice in this situation. I really wanted a chance for them to bond further, and this seemed like a good way to do it. I really hope you enjoyed the chapter; please let me know what you thought of it. Thanks for reading, and I’ll see you next week! ~ Laran


	31. Brainstorming an Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – I want to thank everyone for their amazing support; I wouldn’t have been able to keep on with this behemoth of a story without all of you. I hope that this chapter continues to please since I’m taking a different approach regarding Mirkwood than I did “A Hobbit’s Rescue.” Merry Christmas and Blessed Solstice to you!
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

The only time the dwarrow saw their hobbit was when she joined them to sleep in front of the cell of whoever had watch during her sleep time. Despite telling her they would save food for her, Hawthorn never showed at meal times so they often had enough food hidden away to make her at least two full meals by the time she arrived to sleep. 

Oin could see that she was growing frustrated at her inability to come up with an idea on how to get them out of there, and he worried about her. She wasn’t gaining weight like the others were, and the healer could tell his daughter was in a lot of pain due to having to sleep on the cold stone floor as well as not being able to use her staff. She’d actually handed it to him to hide under his bed right after they had been imprisoned, worried that she would strike something with it by accident and give away her position. The lass had also shared that it felt as if the ring was sapping away her strength, making her feel exhausted if she wore it for a long period of time.

There was a lot of responsibility on her shoulders right now, and the dwarf hoped she would be able to carry the burden just a bit longer. He knew none of them wanted this for her, but she was the only one they could rely on to release them from their prison. Each time she’d returned, they had done everything they could to bolster her confidence as she kept struggling with it and self doubt.

The healer watched her as she sank to the floor, sitting in front of Thorin’s cell. She looked incredibly weary, and all of them had a feeling the ring she was forced to wear was draining her more than she was letting on. It reinforced their desire to have Tharkûn get rid of it as soon as possible since it wasn’t doing their hobbit any good.

“There’s a feast coming up in a few nights,” the hobbit said to the company, distracting them briefly from their concerns about her. “Apparently, it’s a very important celebration to them. Judging from the preparations going on, I’d say the party is going to be like the celebrations on midsummer’s eve in the Shire.”

“Meaning a lot of food and wine,” Fili stated, leaning against the wall near the door to his cell so he could be comfortable but still see his family. “That might be the right time to get out of here since they’ll be distracted by what’s going on.”

“I was thinking the same thing; I’ve seen that these elves have a bit too strong a fondness for wine. The problem is finding a way out so we can take advantage of this distraction,” she answered, sounding tired and frustrated. 

“You will, lass,” Gloin soothed. “You’re clever and patient. You’ll find a way and tweak that damned elf’s nose at the same time.”

“The water coming into the kingdom that Thranduil spoke of has to be a constantly moving source, faster than a stream or shallow river,” Hawthorn stated, eyes half closed in exhaustion. “With the sheer amount of damage to the earth, a pond or lake would only absorb the darkness and make it unhealthy to drink. So the water source has to be a deep river of some kind that moves too swiftly for the darkness to infect it.”

“There is a river that runs through part of Mirkwood,” Balin commented, mentally going through the maps he’d memorized over the years. “It runs down to the lake where the men built Laketown. In fact, I seem to recall the river being used as a means of transporting goods because it became expensive to haul the wine and other goods over land since the forest is thick, making it too difficult for a trade caravan.”

“If we could get to it, it’d make for a faster way to get to Laketown,” Kili mused. “It’s just a matter of finding the spot where they built an access point to the river.”

“We’re going about this the wrong way,” Bombur shared, surprising everyone since he’d been quiet for a good portion of the day.

“How so,” Bofur asked his brother.

“Trade goods usually mean food stuff,” the heavy dwarf pointed out. “With Mirkwood as dark as it is, it’s not healthy to garden or hunt in the forest so they would have to import it. It’s stupid to have the trade come in near the front of the kingdom where you’d have to haul heavy crates and barrels to the supply storage areas. You have them come in the rear way that’s closest to where they need to go.”

“The lowest levels of the kingdom,” Nori stated, sitting upright. “Like Miss Hawthorn pointed out, Thranduil and his elves are very fond of wine and with there being no dwarven crafters right now, barrels for that wine are reused as often as possible since the men aren’t as good as making barrels as our woodworkers are.”

“The easiest way to get the barrels back to the men would be to send them down the river,” Dori replied. “Thranduil is known for keeping his people hidden away so I doubt he’d allow them to escort the barrels to where they need to go. Chances are good they’re dropped into the river and picked up by one of the men from Laketown close to the lake.”

“So I need to find where the barrels are dropped into the water and see if I can find enough barrels for everyone to use so we smuggle ourselves out,” Hawthorn decided, a little more awake now. “Would all of you mind if we used them for escape?”

“If it got us out of here, you won’t hear a word of complaint from any of us,” Bofur informed her. “Won’t be a comfortable trip but it’ll get us out of this Mahal forsaken place and closer to Erebor before time runs out.”

“Don’t you dare move from that spot,” Oin ordered, spying his daughter trying to get up. “You’re too tired so I want you to sleep. Once you’re rested, you can look for where the barrels are dumped but not until then.”

Too tired to argue with him, she curled up and drifted off to sleep. Once they knew she wouldn’t be disturbed by the voices, Nori broached a subject that had occurred to him while they’d been coming up with a plan.

“I’ve heard that hobbits don’t swim,” he stated in khuzdul in case their hobbit woke up at the wrong time. “Has anyone asked her if she knows how?”

“I haven’t thought of it since we hadn’t come across anything deep enough that required swimming,” Fili replied, looking worried. “If she can’t, we’ll have to make sure she’s in a barrel if someone has to be left out of the barrels to get all of us out of this fortress and into the river.”

“Even if she can, she needs to be in a barrel. She’s not gaining the weight she needs and is obviously exhausted. Cold weather can also cause old injuries to be even more painful and if memory serves me correctly, the rivers and lakes in this area of Rhovanion are cold even in the hottest months of summer,” Thorin shared. “I don’t care what it takes, she’s getting in a barrel.”

Oin and Gloin nodded, agreeing with their cousin. Hawthorn had no business getting into water that cold, and the healer was already fretting about what their current situation was doing to her health. There was simply no way he’d allow her to remain outside of a barrel during their escape.

“We’ll insist on it,” the younger brother announced. “With her body weakened by whatever the ring is doing to her as well as her being affected by her surroundings, we’ll have to do all we can to keep her healthy. A dunking in a cold river is one of the worst things she could do to herself right now.”

“As it is, after we reach Laketown, I’m going to insist she spend a few days resting and not doing anything strenuous,” Oin informed them. “I’ll count myself lucky if she doesn’t get sick from all of this.”

“Let’s just hope she can sleep this off and be all right,” Kili stated. “I really wish she didn’t have to wear that ring; I can tell she hates it.”

“Given her description of what she feels when she wears it, I have a feeling she’s going to be needing the rest soon,” Ori added. “Between that and her connection to nature, she’s got to be fighting to keep herself calm. She said it was like the ground and the plants were screaming at her in pain, and I can’t imagine anyone being okay with that going on constantly.”

“The bond has been growing, and I know she’s not at peace with what’s going on around her,” Thorin shared. “I do what I can to help her stay calm, but I don’t know how much more of this she’s going to be able to take.”

“You’ve not said anything about this before,” Gloin commented, not sounding happy with what his cousin had just shared.

“There’s nothing to be done, and I had no wish to worry everyone any further than they already are. She wouldn’t be pleased with me mentioning it,” the dwarf lord replied. “I do what I can through the bond; mostly it’s just soothing her when she’s overwhelmed or nightmares try to start.”

“We reach Laketown, I’ll see if I can find some herbs to help her rest,” the healer shared. “I’m not sure how to keep bad dreams from reaching her, but a few nights of sleep might be what she needs to shake off what she’s had to go through since entering this damned forest.”

“We should have time for her to regain her strength,” Thorin answered. “I want everyone in the best possible health before we set off for home.”

“Aye, best not to have any lingering injuries or sicknesses,” Dwalin agreed. “The hard part is finding weapons since we can’t get ours back. I’ve no doubt Laketown will not have much and what they do have is going to be of very low quality.”

“We’ll make do as we always have,” he reassured his shield brother. “The blessings that have occurred on this journey make me hopeful that we will succeed.”

“Then the hard work will begin,” Balin chuckled.

“Cleaning up the mess the worm left behind as well as restoring everything to its proper beauty and strength,” the king-in-exile agreed. “It will be difficult but worthwhile.”

“It can’t be so bad,” Kili asked, blanching when he heard his uncle’s laughing reply.

“Oh I have no doubt we’ll be running across massive piles of dragon shite,” Thorin snickered, remembering the conversation where this topic had come up. “Unless he was polite enough to relieve himself outside.”

“You find piles of shite funny,” Bifur asked, looking confused by their king’s reaction.

“No, the conversation where it first came up was,” he answered, sharing the small story of how Hawthorn had brought it up by accident and her reactions to her words. The tale made the group laugh quietly, glad to hear this funny little memory.

“Thanks, Uncle Thorin, now I’m going to have dragon poop showing up in my dreams,” Fili grumbled, causing the others to snicker.

“Glad to be of service, sister-son,” Thorin answered back, grinning as the laughter grew louder.

“Maybe we can pay someone to clean it up so we don’t have to,” Ori mused. 

“It’s a good idea,” Bofur acknowledged. “I don’t know much about growing things, but isn’t shite used by farmers for their crops?”

“We might have to ask Hawthorn since I don’t know,” Thorin replied. “Even if shite is used, we’ve no idea if the stuff Smaug left behind is even good for the fields. That’ll be entirely up to Hawthorn to decide.”

“At least he’d be good for something then,” Bombur grumbled. “We’ll want to get that out of the mountain pretty quickly since there’s two important events to be planned.”

“Coronation for one thing,” Balin agreed. “And the wedding once everything is done according to tradition.”

“I am not going to rush through the steps,” the king-in-exile informed them. “I want to have enough time to ensure the king’s halls are safe for all of us to live in and that the king’s suite is perfect for her to move into. Dis will want to be there for the planning of the ceremony, and I want this to go flawlessly for Hawthorn. Since the courtship was done on the road and a good portion of the betrothal as well, she deserves the best wedding we can possibly give her.”

Oin and Gloin looked very pleased with that statement, glad to know that Thorin was taking the lass’s happiness seriously.

“We’ll have to send for her things,” Gloin shared. “I know they’re stored with the elves in Rivendell since she didn’t want to leave her important belongings behind in the Shire.”

“I had planned for Dis to pick them up on her way to the mountain,” he answered. “This way I can include Hawthorn’s belongings in the suite to make them comfortable for her.”

“We’ll help you plan for the wedding and making her comfortable in Erebor,” Dori promised. “She’s important to all of us, and we want to see her happy as well. I’d very much like to be involved with the making of her dress and wardrobe when the time is right to get started on that.”

“I think she would like that a great deal,” Thorin told him. “There’s a lot to be done, but I am confident we can get everything taken care of so she and our people will be happy in the mountain.”

The group smiled at that, having faith that everything would work itself out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – Brainstorming dwarrow style! I love how things are coming together, and the idea that she can’t swim has been brought up. I don’t think it was mentioned in the books or movie in conversation about hobbits and water. I really hope all of you enjoyed this chapter; thank you so much for reading. Please share your thoughts with me on what you thought of it, and remember to stay safe this holiday! See you next Wednesday! ~ Laran


	32. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note - You guys have been amazing; I hope everyone has had a great holiday and will be safe over the new year. Thank you so much for being with me through all this. Enjoy the chapter!
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make money from the story.

Hawthorn uncovered the method of disposing of the barrels less than a day after the discussion the company had held about possible escape methods. She was happy to see Bombur was right, but the sound of the river beneath the exit only frightened her. She strengthened her resolve, knowing she couldn’t allow her fears to hinder the company’s escape, and her report to the group only brought smiles to their faces as she tamped down on the fear so as not to worry them.

On the night of the feast, the hobbit hid herself away to shadow the elf responsible for the keys to her dwarrow’s cells. She watched as he was pulled into a small celebration with a few others, drinking rather heavily until the group of elves fell into a deep wine-induced slumber. Once she was sure no one would enter and wake them, the keys were snatched and a small invisible figure hurried down the corridors to the cells where her company waited.

Hawthorn breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled the ring off of her finger, dropping it into a safe pocket and buttoning it securely. It took a few tries before she had the right key for the lock to Thorin’s cell and pulled the door open, finding herself enveloped in a very warm hug that helped to ease some of the bone deep chill she’d been dealing with since entering the palace.

“You did well,” he murmured into her ear, kissing her cheek before stepping away to take the keys from her shaking hands and free his company.

The hobbit was hugged by each member as they emerged from their cell, murmurs of thanks whispered in her ear. Her staff was returned to her by her father, who looked at her with an expression of concern on his face.

“I’ll be all right,” she tried to assure him, blinking when he shook his head at her.

“No, my lass, you aren’t all right. You’re too thin and pale for my liking, and we need to get you someplace where you can warm up and rest,” he insisted.

Hawthorn didn’t argue, knowing the entire company would ensure his orders were carried out when they reached a place of safety. She sighed, then gestured towards where their means of escape were waiting.

“We need to go this way; the elves in the room are drunk and sound asleep. While I’ve not seen any patrols, we’ll need to be quiet in case there’s someone still keeping an eye on things,” she warned. “I’m not sure I can stage another escape if we’re caught.”

Thorin nodded, allowing her to lead them through the hallways into the large room full of wine barrels. She gestured to where a stack of empty ones were waiting to be dumped into the river, and the monarch frowned for a moment to count the barrels. There was enough for all of them, but the problem was how to activate the switch from within the wooden containers.

“I think I know of a way for all of us to be in a barrel and still trip the lever,” Nori commented softly. “Hawthorn, may I borrow your staff?”

She handed the item over, then stifled a squeak when Thorin picked her up and carefully placed her into one of the top barrels. She hadn’t expected him to do that, and it was strange being picked up in such a manner since she’d not really been touched by anyone since her parents’ passing. The hobbit was slowly becoming used to the shows of affection and friendly touches from the company.

“Hold on as tightly as you can; parts of the river might be very rough,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her lips before climbing into his own barrel.

Once the company was ready, Nori got into the barrel closest to the lever and used the staff to push the switch into the release position. He barely managed to hang onto the weapon as the floor sank beneath the stack, causing the barrels to roll down and splash into the water.

Hawthorn shivered as cold water splashed over her when the barrel hit the water. Thankfully, while it tilted, the container did not tip over completely and soon righted itself. 

The group of barrels passed through the small gate that had been set up a small distance from the trap door, and the dwarrow sneered when they realized no one had been on watch there. It was a mistake their people would never have made and were grateful the elves had made this error since it meant that no one would be able to hinder their escape.

The journey was swift but easy for the first half hour or so before they hit the first set of rapids. Shouts and a distinctly feminine scream of terror filled the air as the barrels were forced through the quick moving water, barely avoiding rocks, and were dropped down several small waterfalls.

There were several more sets of rapids the company had to endure and through each one, everyone ensured Hawthorn’s barrel was watched closely in case the hobbit lass was thrown from her container. Fortunately, while it tipped a few times, she was able to stay inside the safe confines of the wooden vessel.

Eventually, the current died down to a gentle flow before the barrels snagged on the bed of the river in shallow water. Once they came to a stop, Thorin climbed out of his and hurried to find his betrothed’s barrel.

Both he and Fili reached it at the same time, wincing at how drenched the lass was. Gently, they helped her out of the barrel and the monarch carried her to the shore, calling for Oin as he did so. The healer joined them, quickly examining his daughter and frowning in displeasure with what he discovered.

“She’s taken a chill, which could become serious if we don’t get her warm soon,” he told the two. “Her body is underfed and exhausted, which makes her more susceptible to illness.”

When they heard his words, the dwarrow immediately set to work. Fili and Kili went to scout a campsite well away from the water in case the elves tried to track them down. Dwalin, Dori, and Nori set the barrels back into the water to float to the lake in an effort to mislead anyone looking for them, and the rest of the company worked to find some kind of food for the evening’s meal as well as firewood to help warm everyone for the night.

As soon as his sister-sons returned with news of a campsite, Thorin swept Hawthorn off of her feet and followed the two. The fact she didn’t protest but simply cuddled into him was a sign that she was definitely at the end of her strength, and he knew they had to get her warm soon or she would become ill.

It didn’t take long before there was a fire burning in the small clearing, and fish and tubers were being roasted over the flames. Oin had stripped Hawthorn to her small-clothes and breast bindings before instructing Thorin to do the same, insisting he share his body heat with her. The healer and Gloin ensured their clothing was laid close to the flames to dry before sitting on either side of the monarch, lending their warmth as well.

The hobbit stayed in Thorin’s lap, shivering in his arms while waiting for her body to warm up properly. She was too cold and tired to feel embarrassed about her state of undress, trusting her Calon-Tad to ensure she was taken care of properly.

“Miss Hawthorn?”

She looked up, recognizing Bombur’s voice. The dwarf, also stripped down like the others so his clothing could dry faster, was attending to the fish and tubers that had been found by those foraging for food earlier.

“Yes, Bombur,” she asked, voice showing her tiredness.

“Thank you for working so hard to get us out of there,” the heavy dwarf stated. “I’m so glad we have you in our company.”

That sparked a chorus of thank yous from the other dwarrow, making her blush at the kind words. Hawthorn simply gave a soft smile, cuddling into Thorin as she did so. 

“You’re welcome; I’m sorry it took so long and that I couldn’t get your weapons and armor for you. I couldn’t take the risk of following the gear instead of you. As big as that palace was, I knew I’d get lost as soon as I parted from you.”

“You did the right thing,” Dwalin rumbled. “We’ll find a way to get the sentimental items back later so don’t you worry about that.”

“I’ll try,” she stated, rubbing her eyes. 

“Is she warming up,” Dori asked, sounding concerned.

“Not yet,” Thorin answered, rubbing his hands down her arms in hopes of warming her skin faster. “It’s as if the chill settled deep.”

“The ring,” the lass commented. “It’s cold whenever I wear it, and it’s like that cold reaches deep inside of you and freezes anything warm. I don’t remember feeling the cold deep in my bones like this during the Fell Winter.”

“Once things calm down, the wizard needs to take that damned thing and get rid of it,” Balin stated. “The invisibility is a useful thing, but the cost of using it is too high. There aren’t many magic rings left on Arda, and I doubt that particular ring is any good considering how it makes Miss Hawthorn feel.”

“I don’t want to keep it once the mountain is reclaimed and Thorin’s on the throne where he belongs,” Hawthorn stated. “I’d rather it be far from our home where it can’t hurt anyone.”

“Gandalf should be able to do something with it,” Ori said soothingly. “Considering his age, I’m sure he can identify what ring it is and what should be done with it to keep it away from people. From what I’ve read, he knows two of the holders of the elvish rings of power.”

“I didn’t know that,” Kili commented, blinking when Hawthorn shared what she knew on the topic.

“Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel hold two of the rings,” she stated. “I’m not certain who is the bearer of the third, but I know it’s one of the reasons Thranduil is not fond of them. The rings aid in protecting their lands, but he has to do it under his own power. The darker his realm becomes, the angrier he grows and people suffer for it.”

“Do you think either of them could banish the darkness in Mirkwood,” Bofur asked.

“I don’t know since I have no idea how powerful they are or what their talents could be, but I think they could help if Thranduil would stop nursing his injured pride and do the right thing for his people. I was in the forest for a short time, and you saw how it affected me. Can you imagine being sensitive to nature and hearing it scream for years on end? How a king would let his people suffer like that is beyond me.”

“It’d be like living under poisoned stone,” the hat wearing dwarf observed, making all of the dwarrow shudder in revulsion.

“You have a tie to stone as hobbits do to earth,” she questioned, eager to learn about the people she would be living with.

“We do; it’s called stone sense,” Nori shared. “No dwarf will ever get lost in a mountain simply because the stone speaks to us and guides us. The best miners have a very strong stone sense and can tell where the richest veins of ore are as well as gems.”

“Sounds very useful. I’ll have to keep one of you around until I learn my way around Erebor because I know I’ll get lost quite often. I’ve no wish to have search parties looking for me three times a week,” Hawthorn commented, smiling at the laughter from her dwarrow.

“I’ll make sure you have a guide assigned to you,” Thorin told her, chuckling as he did so. “You’ll need a shield-maiden as well as your ladies-in-waiting and a scribe.”

“Shield-maiden? Like the women of Rohan,” she asked, remembering the stories she’d read of the warrior women.

“Aye, lass, exactly like them,” Dwalin answered, not surprised by her making that comparison. “Only sensible country out of a group of nations run by men. They make sure their women are trained in warfare, even if most of them never see combat. Our bairns are trained when they’re old enough to start learning to evade and tactics. Most won’t join the guard or military force, but every dwarrow is able to fight properly to defend home and king.”

“Sounds reasonable even if I dislike the idea of little ones learning to fight,” Hawthorn replied, leaning back into Thorin. “I’m sure you keep it as safe for them as possible since they’re so young?”

“Oh aye, they don’t even pick up weapons for several years,” Gloin reassured her. “Tactics, strength building, endurance, and hand to hand combat are taught first until the healers say they’ve reached a point where weapons training won’t cause any harm to their growth. Our bairns are the greatest treasure Mahal has granted us, and we would never see a little one come to harm.”

“We’re protective of our fauntlings as well,” the hobbit shared. “It’s not unusual to see an adult feeding a group of them at mealtimes, even if they’re not related. Fauntlings are taught to hide, climb, and are taught games to improve hand and eye coordination. After that, if someone wishes to join the Bounders, they are given some weapons training to help protect the land. The Tooks and Brandybucks are the ones who typically oversee that form of training. Slingshots and archery are the weapons that are taught since hobbit eyesight is fairly good at long distances. Fighting with clubs is taught too, but I’ve never seen any of them used by hobbits.

“To be honest, the only thing the Bounders usually have to handle is the occasional drunkard who has misplaced his home or a light argument over boundaries or gardens. I don’t think any of them have had to use their training since the Fell Winter. Before that, there’s word that an archery troop was sent when the King of Arnor called for aid centuries ago but I’ve seen nothing in records to support that legend.”

“Men tend to overlook the smaller people,” Ori commented. “It’s possible they were there but were forgotten about when the historians wrote down the accounts.”

“Possibly,” she answered. “We’re easy to overlook by the Big Folk and sometimes dwarrow too.”

“Not anymore,” Fili told her. “Not when we’ve got the best hobbit of the group and are happy to keep her. You’ll be in our historical records for being the burglar who not only stole the heart of our king but burgled the king’s company away from the elf king.”

Thorin chuckled at his heir’s words, smiling when the group agreed with the fair haired dwarf. He was pleased with their acceptance of his One, and he couldn’t wait for Dis to meet her.

The conversations soon turned into a chance to share stories, and Hawthorn willingly shared accounts she’d read while in Imladris. Surprisingly, she knew several tales of dwarven heroes and eagerly listened to the versions the company knew. The sharing of stories went on as dinner was eaten and dried clothes were donned.

The monarch eventually sent most of them to bed, setting a watch for the night. His heart was gladdened to see their spirits climbing once again, and he quietly thanked Mahal and Yavanna for blessing him with such loyal companions and an amazing One.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – And we’re out of Mirkwood! Next stop, Laketown. Thanks for reading; please let me know what you thought of the chapter. I will see everyone next week. Happy New Year! ~ Laran


	33. Entering Laketown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – So far the new year is doing all right if you don’t count still waiting to hear back on the appeal for disability. Frustrating but what can I do? I do hope everyone is having an excellent start to 2017! Enjoy the chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

Hawthorn was stiff the next morning and slightly congested, and it didn’t take long before she realized she’d caught a head cold. She was glad it was a mild one, knowing that her trip in that cold river could have caused a serious illness. As it was, she didn’t have a fever and was dealing with mild congestion and a few sneezes so she couldn’t be too upset about it.

The group erased all signs of their campsite before heading in the direction of Laketown. Thorin had Sting, which she had passed to him due to him being the stronger swordsman of the company. Her throwing knives, excepting the blade Frerin had crafted, were loaned to the rest of the company in case they ran into any trouble. The dwarrow promised to return them to her as soon as possible, knowing how important these blades were to her since they had been her first courting gift from Thorin.

It was afternoon when they reached the dock of Laketown, spying two guards standing at the posts where the land and wooden pier joined together.

“Halt! State your name and business,” the elder of the two men called out.

There was a silent look between Balin and Thorin, and it made Hawthorn’s stomach twist with anxiety. She had a feeling she knew what was about to happen, and she didn’t think it would go well given the circumstances. If the adviser felt it was the only way, then it needed to be done but announcing themselves might not go the way they were hoping. The hobbit only hoped she was wrong and that things would not go as poorly as she feared they would.

“We are here to speak to the man in charge of Laketown,” Thorin told him. “We have important business to discuss with him.”

“Why would a group of dwarves want to speak to the Master,” the man asked, sneering a bit at their bedraggled appearance.

“We are the dwarrow of Erebor,” the king-in-exile answered, voice cold and regal. “He will not thank you for holding us here instead of bringing us to him.”

The one who had been quiet spotted the rings the dwarf lord wore and smacked his companion’s arm, murmuring something in a tone that was too soft for them to hear. The pair argued for a moment before the first human spoke again.

“Follow me,” he told them, heading up the pier towards the town.

She took Thorin’s arm when he offered it to her, grateful for the support since the sight of the water below the wooden pier was making her rather dizzy. The hobbit walked with him, biting her lower lip as they entered the city and found people going about their business. The buildings were in horrid condition, and the people wore rags and looked hungry.

“Thorin,” she whispered softly, leaning into him.

“I know,” he replied in a voice just as quiet. “I see it too. This town was just a fishing port in my youth but even then, everything was in perfect order and the people were happy. I know the dragon limits trade but surely, there’s some kind of income that would help to keep the people fed, clothed, and sheltered in proper buildings?”

“If there is, someone must be hoarding the money and not ensuring the ones who live here have a means of feeding their families,” the hobbit told him, struggling to hide her distress when she spotted a child dressed in rags.

“We will find answers,” Thorin assured her, following the guard into a building that was in better shape than the others.

The corpulent male sitting at a table turned all of their stomachs, made worse by the realization that this person was the ruler of this impoverished town and that said ruler had not been living in the same squalor the people under his protection were.

“State your business,” the man ordered, taking a bite of his meal and staring at the group that had entered his domain.

“I am Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror,” he began, keeping a hand over hers as it rested on his arm. “We are the dwarrow of Erebor and seek to reclaim our home, but we require resupplying.”

“You realize there is a dragon in the mountain,” the Master drawled, sending a shudder down Hawthorn’s spine.

“I am aware the worm has not been seen in nearly sixty years,” the dwarf lord replied. “I will enter the mountain to reclaim what belongs to my people and restore the alliances between the mountain and the men of Dale and Laketown.”

Everyone in the company could see the look of avarice on the man’s face, and all of them had a feeling that any money sent to this town would not be seen by the people who desperately needed it.

“The alliance would be welcome,” the disgusting male stated. “Supplies and shelter you shall have. Give a list of what is needed to my man, Alfrid, and he shall see you have all you need. It is my hope that Erebor will remember those who supported you on this quest.”

“Our allies will be amply rewarded,” Thorin replied, hiding his disgust at the greed of the human in front of him.

“Excellent! We shall feast tonight to celebrate your return,” the Master told the group. “I shall have clean attire sent to your lodgings so you may bathe and be ready for the celebration. Alfrid, see to it that our guests have everything they will require for their stay as well as their journey to the mountain.”

A thin, greasy haired male bowed and headed towards the dwarrow.

“Follow me,” he said to them, leading the group out of the large home and down a worn pathway to a building that was slightly better than the ones surrounding it. “This shall be your place of lodging until you are ready to depart. I shall return later with clean attire for you and tomorrow, we can meet to discuss what supplies you will need.”

“I will have a list ready,” Balin stated, knowing this would be a task he would need to take on since this fell under one of the roles an adviser handled.

The human nodded, unlocking the door and handing Balin the key.

“Supplies for your stay will arrive soon,” he told the group. “There are bathing facilities and clean linens aplenty for you so please, take the time to relax and refresh yourselves. Someone will be by to escort you to the feast later this evening.”

The group entered the building, closing the door behind them, and once they were assured of not being overheard, Hawthorn broke the silence.

“Oh merciful Valar, how can such odious people exist?”

“Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time we’ve met people like the Master of Laketown and his lackey,” the white haired dwarf answered tiredly. “I’m certain they won’t be the last.”

“How in Mahal’s name does a town like this go from fairly bustling to being so dilapidated,” Dori asked, frowning as he did so. “Laketown was never like this.”

“I’m certain a good chunk of that is due to the dragon and not having Dale and Erebor to trade with. I imagine the elves are not always a reliable source of income either,” Nori replied. “However, with your permission, I think I’ll do a bit of snooping tonight to see what’s going on with the leader here and why the people look to be starving when they’re living on a lake full of fish.”

“I’ll wait for your report,” Thorin told the thief, knowing he’d find the answers they would need. “Nori, I have another task for you to complete while you are doing reconnaissance. I want you to see if any of Girion’s line survived.”

“I’ll do my best,” he answered, knowing this would be important to his king.

A short while later, the clothing and other supplies arrived. Hawthorn and Bombur filled the kitchen with the food stuff they’d been given, cleaning it up before parting to go get their own baths once the ones who had gone before them had finished.

The hobbit sighed, staring at her reflection in the tarnished mirror. Her old attire was a wreck, and she wasn’t pleased with what she was wearing either. They’d given her a child’s dress, which was not made for a fully grown female hobbit. The length was right, but the fabric was tight across the chest. 

“This is ridiculous,” she grumbled, feeling slightly indecent.

At the knock at the door, she opened and peeked out to find Gloin waiting for her. 

“Is it time to go yet?”

“Not yet, Hawthorn. Is everything all right? You seem rather upset about something.”

“Somewhat,” she answered, looking uncomfortable. “Would you mind finding Dori for me please? I really need his help with something.”

Her uncle nodded, disappearing to find the dwarf she’d requested, and after a few moments, she let the silver haired tailor into her room. It didn’t take him for than a second to realize why she’d asked for him.

“Is this what they sent for you to wear,” he asked in dismay, looking very unhappy at the picture she presented.

“Yes,” Hawthorn told him. “The length and waist are fine, but the bust area is so tight that it’s indecent. I can’t go out in this!”

“They sent everyone clothing made for children,” Dori grumbled, walking around her to see if he could alter this for her. “I’ve spent a good portion of the afternoon making adjustments to clothing. I had hoped yours would be a bit more acceptable.”

“I’m not the most generously gifted hobbit when it comes to the chest area but even the most flat chested of hobbit matrons wouldn’t fit in this properly,” she complained. “I bound them as tightly as I could too when I realized they’d sent me a child’s dress.”

“Can you breathe all right,” he asked, sounding concerned.

“As long as there’s no dancing or fighting, I’ll be fine,” the lass reassured him. “Do you think you can do something with this?”

He looked at the seams and shook his head, knowing the dress was not made to be adjusted. 

“The seams aren’t deep enough to hide excess fabric; whoever made this did so knowing there was just enough material to make the dress to be handed down once the child outgrew it. I do have another option if you don’t mind trousers,” he offered. “Some dams might not like wearing such things to feasts and other gatherings so I didn’t think to bring them up with the dress.”

“As long as they’re modest, I don’t mind. I don’t feel comfortable going out of my room in this thing,” Hawthorn told him. “I’ve no wish for Thorin or the others feeling like they have to spend the evening defending my honor, and they will have to if I wear this in public. The company deserves a chance to relax as much as possible, and I doubt the master of this town will make it easy for them to do so. I don’t want to add to their stress if I can avoid it.”

“Give me a few moments to get the clothing, and I can do a quick tack to ensure everything fits well. I’ll be right back.”

Dori left the room, coming back a short time later with a bundle of fabric in his arms. He laid out a pair of dark trousers, white shirt that laced up the front, and a dark blue coat. They were obviously made for larger children, but the two had hopes this would fit her without being indecent.

“Perfect,” Hawthorn stated, grabbing the clothing and disappearing behind a screen to change.

“Let’s hope so,” the tailor replied. “I’ve no desire to watch our king murder people tonight for eying you the wrong way.”

“I know he, Calon-Tad, and Uncle Gloin would fight to protect me, but surely he wouldn’t resort to killing?”

“We love fiercely, Miss Hawthorn, and we are highly protective of those we keep in our hearts. Thorin and the rest of us would ensure your honor and virtue are protected even if it meant destroying those who have ill-intentions towards you. We all would happily do it as you’re important to all of us,” he told her, making her blush.

Hawthorn came out from behind the screen a few moments later, and Dori quickly pinned the trousers to the right length. The shirt and jacket were a bit large, but they covered her well and allowed for comfortable movement so he would leave them as they were. 

“You’ll need a belt for this,” he said, checking the waistband of the trousers. “I don’t want to tack this because I know you’ll gain healthy weight back once things settle down. I think I know where to find one. Take those off, and I’ll adjust these for you.”

She disappeared behind the screen, holding the garment out once she had them off.

“Right, once I’m done and you’re dressed, come down to the parlor and Thorin can do something about your hair. Your braids will need redoing before the feast,” he told her, making her laugh softly.

“If he can get this mess untangled, he’s welcome to do whatever he likes to fix the disaster my hair has become,” Hawthorn giggled, causing Dori to laugh as well.

“I’ll tell him you said that. I’ll be back in a bit,” he assured her, heading out to go to the sewing kit he’d found earlier.

Once alone, Hawthorn sank onto a chair and rubbed her temples as she tried to gather her thoughts. A large part of her did not want to go to the feast since she had seen just how poor the people of the town were. It didn’t sit well with her to know that she would be enjoying food that should be going into the mouths of those who needed it.

Chances were good that any funding coming from Erebor would stay in the pockets of the man who ran this town, and it made her stomach churn with anger. Something had to change here, but she wasn’t sure how to do it. The influence of the mountain kingdom could only go so far.

The hobbit got up, moving to the window to stare out at the busy streets and waterways. Her heart was breaking at the sight of underfed children, and she was furious by the knowledge that she could do nothing to help the little ones.

Dori came in a few moments later, handing her the trousers and belt, and frowned over the look on her face. He slipped out, letting her dress, and went to speak to someone who would be able to help ease the hobbit lass.

Hawthorn dressed, donning the belt correctly and laying the jacket on the chair before returning to stand in front of the window. She heard a tap on the door, calling out to whoever it was to enter. 

“Dori said something is troubling you,” Thorin asked, moving to stand beside her.

“Children are the greatest gift the Valar has granted every race on Arda,” the hobbit answered, voice rough with anger and heartbreak. “Yet the little ones here are underfed due to the greed of one man and there is nothing I can do about it.”

“We’ll find a way,” he assured her, wrapping his arms around her waist and tugging her into him. “Hopefully, Nori can determine if Girion’s line survived and if so, I can make an offer to his heir. If he takes it, he can rebuild Dale and offer a life of plenty to the people suffering here.”

“And if the Master refuses to let the people go?”

“I’ll intervene then and even try to spur the damned elf to their aid if I can manage it. If he won’t help, I’ll send for help from my cousin and see if the Lord of Lothlórien would be willing to do the same to help protect the innocents here,” Thorin promised. “People have the right to ensure their children are fed and well taken care of, and I refuse to allow the little ones to suffer as they are. I have seen this happen too often, and now I have the means to do something about it for those around me.”

Hawthorn turned in his embrace, slipping her arms around his waist and leaning her head against his chest. She closed her eyes, listening to his heartbeat and taking comfort from the powerful sound. 

“Thank you,” the hobbit lass whispered quietly.

“Anytime, my One,” he answered. “We’ll make this right, I promise.”

He held her close for a while, staying silent until he felt the tension ease from her too thin frame. Once she was relaxed, he pressed a kiss to her hair.

“Now, let’s get your hair combed out and see what I can do with all these curls,” Thorin said with a smile, catching a glimpse of the small teasing one she gave in return.

“I hope you can do something with my hair because I fear it’ll frighten the dragon with how tangled and horrid it looks after washing it,” Hawthorn said, smiling as he laughed.

“I’ll remember that in case we need to scare him out,” the monarch answered. “In the meantime, I wish to show just how beautiful my betrothed is and that means creating some kind of order here.”

The hobbit giggled, letting him guide her downstairs. She was grateful to have a soulmate who understood and was willing to do what he could to help those in need. At the moment, she refused to think of Smaug and was determined to simply enjoy time with those she called family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – And we are now in Laketown. I hope everyone enjoyed this; please let me know what you thought of the chapter. I’ll see you all next week! ~ Laran


	34. Show of Compassion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – I’ve been very pleased with how people are accepting how I chose to depict Laketown. I wanted the characters to see the poverty and just how badly things are going for the humans due to the dragon and their leader. Being people who have faced need before, they would notice these things in detail and want to help where they could. I hope this chapter continues to please. 
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make money from this story. The only thing I own is the original character used in this chapter.

The feast was just as awful as Hawthorn feared it would be, and it took every ounce of the proper manners her parents drummed into her head to maintain her decorum and not lose her temper. The food was of higher quality than what she’d spotted in what passed for a market on their way into the town earlier, and her stomach turned at the thought of this horrid human living so well while the others starved. In the Shire, no child went hungry and the idea of the little ones in Laketown never having plentiful good food made her angry.

The hobbit ate until she was full, then slipped what items that could be carried into the deep pockets of her jacket. The only ones she noticed were watching her were Nori and Thorin, and both gave her a small nod of understanding. She sipped at the cider, glad for the non-alcoholic version since she knew she needed her wits around her.

“I must ask, the young lady with you, she is not a dwarf, is she?”

At the Master’s words, Hawthorn went still and chanced a glance to her betrothed. She could feel Oin and Gloin, both who were sitting on either side of her, stiffen when the man’s question was asked. Their presence made her feel safe, and she was grateful for that.

“No, she is a hobbit from the Shire,” Thorin replied.

“Interesting, I know some of their produce reaches this area but I have never seen one of her kind before,” the human replied. “I’m surprised to see one with your company.”

“We are grateful she accompanied as she has helped us through many difficult situations,” Balin said to him, hoping his king would keep calm over the fact his betrothed had been singled out by such a horrid man.

“I do notice that she’s wearing braids similar to some of your company’s, which is unusual I am told,” the Master shared casually. “I’ve always heard that dwarves do not share their culture with outsiders.”

“Miss Baggins was adopted by a member of the company, and she is also betrothed to another member. In light of such things, braids are allowed,” the adviser stated, wanting the conversation to turn away from their hobbit lass.

“Is she indeed? I had heard that dwarves do not allow marriages with outsiders or adoptions.”

“Untrue,” Balin replied. “It doesn’t happen often but isn’t forbidden. As you say, we are careful in regards to what is shared with outsiders. Miss Baggins is not an outsider; she’s an important member of our company, and we are grateful she consented to join us.”

Fortunately, the Master said nothing in response and soon, the conversation was turned into a different direction. The company was relieved when his interest in Hawthorn was diverted, and she leaned slightly into her calon-tad.

“I know,” he said softly, accurately reading her body language. “He’s foul, and I don’t like how he singled you out. I would much rather you stay with at least one member of the company whenever we leave our temporary residence, and I’ll ask Thorin to make sure someone remains at our shelter so you’re not alone.”

“Agreed,” Gloin commented. “I’d feel better knowing you had an escort at all times.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” she promised. “I didn’t like him either; he makes me feel ill whenever he looks at me, and I’d prefer not being anywhere near him or his lackey if we can avoid it.”

“Good, I’ll let Thorin know,” Oin stated, gently wrapping an arm around her in hopes of comforting her. “I hope this damnable feast ends soon; I dislike celebrating when there are people in need just outside.”

Hawthorn sneezed, fishing out a handkerchief from her pocket before sneezing again.

“Are you ill?”

“Just a head cold,” she told her adoptive father. “No fever, just congestion and sneezing mostly. I was chilled for too long, and we’re lucky it’s not something worse.”

“I’ll see about making a remedy to relieve the congestion when I have access to herbs,” he promised, wincing a bit when she sneezed again.

Another sneeze had Thorin moving; there was a brief discussion between him and the Master before he gave the company a gesture that had all of them getting up with hidden sighs of relief. They exited the hall together, breathing the air that was cooler than the overly warm building the human had claimed as his.

“Nori,” Thorin murmured, giving permission and the dwarf disappeared into the darkness to carry out the task he’d been given hours earlier.

The group headed back to their temporary residence, stopping when Hawthorn approached a small child who was sitting on a step. The little one had been crying, hiccuping when the hobbit knelt in front of her with a concerned expression on her face.

“Are you all right, little one,” she asked in a gentle tone of voice.

“Mama’s sick,” she answered, rubbing her eyes in an attempt to stop her tears while her little belly gave out a loud roar of hunger.

Hawthorn looked at her adoptive father for a moment, and the dwarf and his brother headed towards them. The lass looked at the little girl, who had to be around five years old.

“This is my father,” she told the girl. “He’s a healer and can try to help your mama. Can you show him where she is?”

“You’ll help?”

“I’ll try, lassie,” he said, watching her and his brother, who was signing.

Hawthorn emptied her pockets of the food, handing them to Gloin. Within moments, the food that the company members had smuggled out were also handed to the dwarf. Gloin tucked it into his pockets, knowing at least this child would not go to bed tonight with an empty belly.

“It’s not a lot,” she told the child in an apologetic tone. “But it’ll keep that tummy of yours from growling so loud. Let my father and uncle help with your mama and hopefully, things will get better soon.”

“Are you a princess,” she asked, eyes gleaming with amazement at the fact these strangers were willing to help.

“She’s going to be a queen,” Thorin stated, kneeling beside Hawthorn. “She’s beautiful like one, isn’t she?”

“She is,” the little girl answered. “Kind and pretty, like the princesses in my stories.”

“I think so too,” the dwarf said, giving the child a warm smile. “That’s one of the reasons she’ll be a queen. You’ll have to come see her after she becomes queen so she won’t have to worry about her little friend.”

“Can I,” the child asked, making Hawthorn smile.

“Of course, I want my first friend here in Laketown to see me as often as you can,” the hobbit said. “What’s your name, sweetling?”

“I’m Astrid,” she answered.

“That’s a beautiful name for such a pretty girl,” the lass told the smaller one. “My name is Hawthorn, and it’s a pleasure to meet you. This is Thorin.”

Thorin took the child’s hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it and making her giggle. Hawthorn smiled, leaning in to lay a soft kiss on the young one’s brow.

“Yavanna watch over and keep you safe until we meet again, Astrid. My father and uncle will make sure you get home safely and see what can be done to help your mama. Make sure to listen to them and eat what they give you, all right? Uncle Gloin is a father so he knows what little ones need to do so they can grow up big and strong.”

“I will; I promise. Thank you, Queen Hawthorn and Mister Thorin,” Astrid said, making the hobbit blush darkly as the little girl got up and took Oin and Gloin by the hands to lead them to her home.

Once they were gone, Thorin rose and helped the hobbit to her feet. The company silently surrounded them, offering protection as they headed back to the house that had been given to them for their stay. 

When the door closed behind them, all of the dwarrow in the group outside of Thorin bowed to the lass, making her blush. 

“No, please, don’t do this. You’re my friends and family.”

“To know you hold us in such esteem does us honor,” Balin explained, still bowed. “During the journey, you have shown us that you are both a warrior and noble woman who we have been proud to fight alongside. Tonight, you showed us our future queen and to a dwarf, we know that we will always be honored to have such a kind hearted woman ruling alongside our king.”

Strong hands gently settled on her shoulders as Thorin stood behind her; his voice a soft rumble when he spoke.

“They are paying you honor, ukradel,” he said quietly. “This will be the first time they will show their loyalty to you through this action; in time, they will vow their fealty to you. After that, it will only be in formal settings when they pay obeisance to you in this manner.”

It took a moment for her to frame a response, and soon she was able to address them despite the lump in her throat.

“I hope I will always be someone you will be proud of to call friend, family, and queen,” she said to the group. “I’m relying on all of you to keep me honest and ensure I’m able to be kind of person Thorin and Erebor needs.”

“You have our promise, Aunt Hawthorn,” Fili said, hand over his heart.

Thorin pressed a kiss to her hair, then gently guided her up the stairs towards her room. They were followed by Dwalin, who was chaperoning a few feet away to give a bit of privacy, and once they reached her door, the king-in-exile cupped her face.

“The rare times I let myself dream of my One, I would try to picture who she or he could be and you, ukradel, exceed every wish and dream I ever conjured up in my mind,” he said quietly.

“Ukradel?”

“It means greatest heart of all hearts,” the dwarf lord said, smiling at the blush that darkened her pale cheeks. “I believe it suits you perfectly.”

“Thank you, fy brenin,” she murmured, making him tilt his head a bit. 

“What does that mean,” Thorin asked.

“My king,” the lass shared, blinking when his eyes darkened with an emotion she couldn’t identify.

Hawthorn’s eyes closed when his lips pressed against hers, but she nearly opened them in shock when she felt his mouth open over hers and the tip of his tongue gently tease against her closed lips. Stunned and a bit at a loss, she obeyed his silent request and felt her knees go weak at the first brush of his tongue against hers. Her staff fell to the floor with a loud clatter when she let go of it to wrap her arms around his neck, finger slipping into his soft hair.

The sound of Dwalin clearing his throat was almost ignored but the calling of the king-in-exile’s name forced Thorin’s attention away from his betrothed to look at the warrior.

“That’s going beyond what’s allowed,” he warned, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Let the lass get some rest, and you need to go find some cold water.”

Thorin growled something in khuzdul at his friend, making him laugh, and he kissed her gently once more.

“May Irmo grant you sweet dreams, ukradel,” he murmured, stooping to hand her the staff she had dropped before heading down the hall.

“Sleep well, Hawthorn,” Dwalin grinned, following his friend.

“You too, Dwalin,” she called, going into her room and sitting on the bed.

She pressed shaky fingers against her lips, eyes wide at what she’d experienced just moments ago. Kissing Thorin had been wonderful but this, this was something so very new. Hawthorn could feel the residual heat racing through her body, making her wonder if this was part of what her mother had managed to tell her about being with one’s cariad. The discussion about marriage and intimate activities had been brief due to Bungo coming into the smial at the wrong times; she knew the fundamentals of what happened in the marriage bed but apparently, there was a lot more she had not been told.

Part of her really wished for her mother right then, needing an explanation of what had just happened, and she sighed. Truthfully, the hobbit didn’t feel right questioning her calon-tad or uncle and hoped that she might find someone to talk to before the wedding.

Hawthorn dressed for bed, slipping under the covers before blowing out the candle. She fell asleep with fingertips pressed against her lips, which were curved in a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note - I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Thorin got a bit carried away there, but she really did show compassion and strength. I think I love this chapter the most of the Laketown ones. Also, before I forget, I’m on tumblr now under ladylaran. If you have an account, go ahead and follow me so you’ll be able to get update reports as well as pictures that might apply to the stories I’m working on. Thanks for reading everyone. I’ll see you next week! ~ Laran


	35. Covert Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note - The response to the last chapter was awesome; I cannot thank you guys enough for your amazing support. I hope this chapter continues to please!
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make money from this story.

Nori didn’t return to the house until late the following night; the day had passed slowly as Balin worked with the Master’s lackey in regards to the supplies they would need. Hawthorn stayed out of the way, catching up on the sleep she had missed during the company’s captivity and taking the medicine Calon-Tad had put together to help ease the symptoms of the head cold.

He and Gloin had both told her about their time at Astrid’s home, and her heart ached when they spoke of the gratitude from the widow. She’d lost her husband before giving birth to their only child, and the woman had struggled to keep food on the table since his death. She had fallen ill and been unable to work, leaving little food in the home and that had gone to the child.

Hawthorn was glad they’d been able to help and wished she could do more for them and the others of this town. Thorin had agreed with her when he’d heard of the plight of the child and her mother, and he was frustrated about not being able to do anything to help the residents here at this point in time. They could only hope Nori would find someone who would be willing to work with them in regards to rebuilding Dale and moving the people out of Laketown, away from the Master. Ideally, he’d rather work with a descendent of the original king of Dale but at this point, he would take anyone who had the needs of their people first in their priorities.

The missing dwarf arrived after the evening meal, well after the sun had set, and he did not come alone. A man, cloaked and hooded, entered the house after Nori entered, and the company paused in their discussion to hear what the thief had to say.

“I have someone you should meet,” Nori said, nodding to the man standing next to him. “This is Bard, descendent of Girion, the last lord of Dale.”

Bard removed the hood as Thorin rose, extending his hand in greeting to the man.

“Well met, Master Bard,” he greeted, clasping the man’s forearm when the gesture was returned.

“Well met, King Thorin,” Bard replied. “Your dwarf was insistent that you wanted to speak with me and said it was of vital importance.”

“I do, and it’s about a serious matter that concerns all of us a great deal,” Thorin responded, pausing when the man’s eyes fell upon where Hawthorn was sitting.

“You must be young Astrid’s queen,” the man said, smiling softly when the hobbit blushed. “She and her mother are my neighbors, and I overheard her telling my daughters the story about meeting you last night.”

“I am Hawthorn Baggins, daughter of Bungo and Oin,” she greeted, remembering the proper dwarven way of introducing herself. “I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Astrid last night. I’m afraid she quite won my heart with her sweet ways; I just with there was more I could do to help her.”

“Your kindness to her was one of the reasons I agreed to meet with King Thorin,” he told her. “Sending your family to help Nessa was something most people would not have done for a stranger, child involved or no; I had no idea her illness had gotten so bad. She’d told her daughter not to tell me so I am grateful you found Astrid last night.”

“No one should have to suffer from hunger or lack of care,” she said softly. “I wasn’t able to give her much, and the company took me by surprise by sneaking food out of the banquet as well. Calon-Tad said that it would keep them for a few days until Nessa is able to return to work.”

“I added what I could spare to those supplies,” he informed her. “I also told Astrid that the next time her mother gets ill or there’s no food to tell me even if Nessa says not to. She promised to do so, and I know she will keep her promise since she’s a good girl.”

“Thank you for helping her,” Hawthorn told him. “That eases my mind a little bit.” 

“Thank you for doing the same,” he answered, taking a seat and looking over at Thorin. “You mean to enter the mountain, don’t you?”

“My people are not doing well,” Thorin answered bluntly. “The place we settled cannot sustain us for much longer, and we are not farmers. Ered Luin is not safe, and I need a home for my people where they will not be vulnerable to attacks and poor weather. A place where they can earn enough money to feed their families.”

“Our situations are similar then, and I am sorry to hear it,” Bard sighed. “We did well enough after Dale burned, but the current master of this town has bled it dry with his taxes and other laws that do not allow our people to flourish as they once did. We are not able to fish as we should because he wants to control everything that comes in or out of this town.”

“What do you think of reclaiming the title your family held and leading them to Dale? I am willing to help in anyway I can,” the king-in-exile told him. “Your people can be prosperous and proud once more, and no child will go to bed cold or hungry ever again.”

“I see the wisdom of what you propose, but I fear what will happen to the people here when you enter the mountain.”

“Only a fool would not be afraid of what sleeps in Erebor,” Thorin assured him. “The plan is to recover the Arkenstone and use it as a means of calling upon the oaths sworn on it to aid the line of Durin. If all goes well, we will engage the beast in the mountain without endangering your people.”

“That is if it goes well,” he objected quietly. “Things have a habit of not going well these days. Yet I am very aware that the dragon will eventually waken and need to feed; Laketown will be his hunting grounds.

“As much as I wish to keep you from going, I know I have no right to do so but I know Smaug will target this town once he is woken by your company.”

“Evacuate all who will listen to you when we leave,” the dwarf lord suggested. “If the worm is enraged, there won’t be as many for him to kill if you remove whoever will follow you.”

“I can do that for those who look to me for guidance, even when I do not wish for them to do so,” he replied. “I also have means of killing the worm should he attack. The story passed down from Girion is that a scale was removed when he shot at Smaug. Another shot could not be made as he had already moved out of range of the wind-lance.”

“If the ravens are there, we can send a message to you confirming the location of the weak point if there is one and it looks as if he will descend upon the town,” Thorin offered. 

“I think that will be best,” Bard agreed. “I will do my best to get as many people to evacuate as I can, including my children, and then wait for your news.”

The two rose, grasping each other’s forearms in agreement. 

“We will see to it our people become prosperous and flourish as the Valar intended them to,” the king-in-exile stated, making Bard nod.

“We will indeed. I should go; my children are waiting, and I have much to do starting tomorrow. I will wait for your message once you reach Erebor in case Smaug leaves the mountain,” the man stated, drawing his hood back up and leaving.

Once they were alone, Thorin turned his eyes to Nori.

“You’ve done well,” he told him. “What else did you uncover?”

“The Master pretty much bullied his way into power, and he has done everything to ensure he becomes wealthy while tightening the restrictions imposed by every law he can think up,” the thief shared, looking angry as he gave his report. “He’s the only rich man in Laketown. Everyone else is poor and near starving. Farming is discouraged, and I have no idea if anyone even knows how to plant a garden.”

“How do they get food,” Hawthorn asked, sounding appalled.

“Relying heavily on fishing,” Nori replied. “Like Bard said, even that is controlled heavily by the master. All foodstuffs that are imported go through the Master first and is sold at markets controlled by him.”

“Meaning he keeps the better choices of food goods and sells low quality items at too high a cost,” Kili growled. “How has he not been overthrown?”

“He feeds his soldiers well in order to keep them somewhat loyal to him, but most are angry with him because their families do not share in the bounty. It’s how I heard of Bard and knew where to find him. Most of them will follow Bard when he steps up to get his people out of here,” the middle Ri brother shared.

“A person like that would have been overthrown or assassinated in any other place,” Dwalin stated, sounding angry. “Why didn’t they leave and go elsewhere?”

“No money to do so,” Nori told him flatly. “Most of them are not fighters and the risk of taking their families to Rohan or Gondor is too high considering they can’t afford supplies or someone to help protect their children. Bard does what he can to keep his family fed and help those in need, but he’s limited considering there’s little to no opportunity for trade here.”

“He doesn’t have the kind of trade that would allow him to wander for work either,” Thorin commented, looking haunted. “At least I could do that and know Dis would be all right as she kept an eye on our people.”

“So this has to be successful and not just for the dwarrow of Erebor but for the people here,” Hawthorn said softly, feeling the weight of this burden become heavier.

“It will, one way or another,” the king-in-exile promised his betrothed. “If we find the weak point, we’ll ensure Bard is told so Smaug will fall if he leaves the mountain. I just hope he’s successful in getting people to evacuate.”

The company murmured their agreement, not liking the idea of innocents being killed by the dragon. The elder dwarrow had seen what dragon fire could do, and they didn’t want to see it again or have the younger ones experience it. All of the ones who had been alive when Smaug had attacked were haunted by the memories of screams as dwarrow were maimed or killed by the flames the worm had unleashed upon the population of the mountain.

Not liking the tension that had fallen, Hawthorn began humming in hopes of soothing the dwarrow. When the others caught the melody, they joined in and harmonized with her, allowing the music to ease the troubled memories that plagued the older members of their group.

In time, the group had relaxed enough to retire to their beds and the hobbit lass prayed quietly to the Valar as she slipped into bed, asking that the dreams of her loved ones would not be troubled tonight. Too many memories had been pulled out into the light with the discussion Thorin had shared with Bard, and she truly did not want any of them to suffer.

Hawthorn laid in her bed after blowing the candle out, staring into the darkness as her thoughts wound themselves into knots. Finally, she whispered softly to the Valië who had created her people.

“Blessed Green Lady, please watch out for my company and keep them safe. I know they’re children of Your husband, but they are also Yours too and need as much help as they can get. The dragon does not belong here, and too many lives have been destroyed by him. I...I ache inside seeing the little ones starving and know that the younglings back in Ered Luin are not thriving as they should. 

“Help me to help them,” she pleaded silently into the darkness. “Their lives have been difficult enough, and they deserve peace and prosperity. I would see them reclaim their homes and ensure no child goes to bed hungry and cold. Please, Lady Yavanna, I beg this of You. Present this to Lord Mahal and ask for His aid too. His children have been homeless and alone for far too long, and they need their father.”

Her voice trailed off, and the hobbit sighed. She laid there for quite a while before drifting off to sleep, her prayer repeating itself in her thoughts as her body gave into the need for rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note - I hope everyone enjoyed it; a plan has been formed to help those of Laketown who will listen to Bard and escape before Smaug can do something. We shall see if this plan is successful or not. For those on tumblr, you can find me on there under ladylaran. See everyone next week! ~ Laran


	36. Journeying to Erebor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – I’m really pleased with the reception the chapters regarding Laketown has been getting. All of you are happy with the changes and the details put into it, and that really is a motivator to continue working. I think I have the best readers in the world; thank you so much for being so supportive! You have no idea how much writers really need that, and I enjoy posting days because I get amazing support and positive constructive criticism that helps me grow as a writer.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

The company left the dilapidated town at daybreak several days after the conversation with Bard. Weapons, traveling gear, and food had been supplied, and the group headed out on a boat manned by the descendent of Girion. No one said much for most of the travel, and Hawthorn spent her time leaning against her adopted father’s shoulder as she stared at the massive mountain that was getting closer.

Bard helped unload the boat, then straightened up to look at the members of the company.

“I’ll be waiting for news; may the Valar keep you safe as you embark on this endeavor.”

“You have our thanks for the well wishes and the transport here,” Thorin told him, donning his pack and helping Hawthorn with hers.

The human went on his way, and the company headed towards their final destination. There was a bit of nervous energy that filled all of them, especially the older ones when they recognized familiar landmarks. Each new spot would have a story attached to it that was shared to the others.

It helped the journey go a bit faster, and spirits were high when they stopped to camp that night. Hawthorn did her share before being told to sit down, and she rested her leg and hip while listening to the chatter of the company.

“We will be at the mountain tomorrow,” Thorin stated, taking a seat beside her. “The ruins of Dale are not far from here, and Erebor is a few hours from there.”

“We’ll make it on time then,” she said softly. 

“We will,” he agreed, sharpening the sword he’d been given by the men. “I must confess, I am not fond of the plan of sending you in to find the stone.”

“Even though I’ve been traveling with all of you for months, my scent will still be confusing to him,” the hobbit confided. “As much as I despise the thing, I’ll use the ring to stay hidden from the dragon as much as I can. I hope he’ll be too confused to start breathing fire, and that will buy me time to discover his weakness as well as find the Arkenstone.”

“Just promise me you’ll be careful, ukradel,” Thorin asked, making her look over at him.

“I promise, fy brenin,” the hobbit lass swore, kissing him softly. “We found each other, and I mean to see you rule wisely until Mandos decides it is time for our souls to leave this land.”

“I am so grateful to have found you,” he murmured, resting his forehead against hers. “I cannot imagine doing this without you.”

“We’ll get through this one step at a time,” she whispered. “You’ll have your home back, and everyone will be able to sleep at night in safety and with full bellies.”

“Yes they will,” the king-in-exile agreed, kissing her once again before leaning back, not wanting to risk the chance of being scolded by the company. 

All of them had been keeping an eye on them after Dwalin accidentally shared the news of the rather intimate kiss he’d witnessed. Fortunately, Oin and Gloin hadn’t done much other than give Thorin a nasty look but it meant that everyone was ensuring the couple didn’t go beyond what was acceptable at this point.

“So I must ask, what does this Arkenstone look like,” she questioned, knowing she was going to need some idea of what this item was so she could identify it.

There was a bit of a silence as they pondered the question, and Balin broke the silence to answer the question she had asked.

“That’s not easy since your people are not familiar with gems and the nuances of color. The Arkenstone is large enough to fit in a fully grown dwarf’s hand, and it looks to be a mix of clear and white but there’s a prismatic effect it radiates.”

“So it’s a white rock that shines like a rainbow,” she asked, making Bofur snort and start laughing.

“With a hobbit for a queen, we’re going to have interesting conversations regarding ores, stones, and gems in the future. I can see it now; the miner’s guild and jeweler’s guilds will have a fit,” the toymaker said, snickering harder.

“It’s more than a rock, ukradel,” Thorin told her, looking caught between laughing and feeling a bit offended.

“Sorry, fy brenin, but all of these things are mathoms to us,” she stated. “We really don’t see the use in having them, and they’re a nuisance to keep clean. I hate dusting.”

“Wait, are you saying a mathom is a useless dust-catcher,” Fili asked, eyes wide when she nodded.

“Oh Mahal, wait till Mum hears this,” Kili shouted as he laughed. “She’s going to love Aunt Hawthorn to bits, I tell you.”

“I just insulted your rock, didn’t I,” the hobbit asked, blushing as she did so. “I’m sure it’s pretty and all that.”

Even Thorin and Dwalin couldn’t keep their laughter hidden when their burglar kept trying to make up for what she thought was an insult. The entire company was laughing, and Hawthorn soon figured it out and pouted.

“All of you are mean,” she sulked, crossing her arms childishly but her eyes were gleaming with mischief as she watched them laugh even more.

They all went to bed later that night, and every member of the company was in a merry mood thanks to the hobbit’s antics. Thorin knew she had overacted simply to keep their spirits high and it had been effective, even for him. He fell asleep, thinking of days where she would be silly in private just to keep her king and his advisers from killing someone.

Hawthorn lost her determination to keep her company laughing when they reached the ruins of Dale, and she froze at the sight of the destruction.

“Oh Yavanna,” she whispered, pressing her hand to her heart. 

“They will rebuild, Hawthorn, and we’ll see it done,” Thorin assured her, slipping an arm around her waist and gently nudging her to continue moving. “This won’t happen again; there will be no hoard to draw another dragon.”

“The children must have been so frightened – here and in the mountain,” Hawthorn murmured, eyes full of tears. 

“Everyone was,” he murmured, getting her to walk. “I was in my twenties when the dragon came; that’s what you would call the tween years. Dwarrow don’t reach adulthood until their seventy-fifth year so my siblings and I were terrified. I wanted to hide, but I had a responsibility to my people.”

“Why didn’t your father or grandfather do that,” she asked.

“Father was on a different level, activating an alarm to warn the miners,” Thorin shared. “Grandfather went after the Arkenstone and was nearly killed when he lost it in the treasury. He tried to go after it just as the dragon entered the room to make his nest.”

“Oh Thorin,” the hobbit murmured, leaning into him. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you, having to be the adult when your grandfather should have fulfilled his duties as king.”

“I lost all vestiges of childhood that day,” he admitted. “When Grandfather wanted to try to reclaim Khazad-dûm, he refused to hear Father’s words about Frerin and I being too young. I was in my fifties then, and my brother was younger than me. Father, Uncle Groin, and Uncle Fundin fought with him for days to get him to reconsider, but he wanted everyone who could wield a sword or ax on the battlefield to try to reclaim another source of wealth. Thirty years away from Erebor, and the gold was all he could think of.”

“What happened to drive him to that state, Thorin?”

“He was a good dwarf and loving to his family,” the one beside her answered. “He lost his One, and the slide into greed began. It was slow, almost unnoticeable, but it became worse after the Arkenstone was found. He refused to turn over the jewelry Thranduil had commissioned, stating he was trying to cheat the dwarrow of what they were owed. I remember that day; it caught me by surprise because I knew Thranduil had paid fairly in goods as well as gold. That’s when we realized something was incredibly wrong with him because he had always been one to treat his allies well and with respect.

“Father and I were unsure what to do and, in time, Frerin and Dis both realized something was wrong as we wandered to find a home after losing Erebor. In our heart, we hoped distance away from Erebor would help Grandfather shake off the gold sickness but it didn’t. We lost so many at Azanulbizar because he wouldn’t hear of settling anywhere else but Khazad-dûm.”

“With how everyone felt about elves after Thranduil’s desertion, I imagine you wouldn’t have thought to ask Lord Elrond for help,” Hawthorn observed. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of that, fy anwylyd. I wish there was a way to help ease the past hurts.”

“You help ease the pain now,” Thorin admitted. “I trust you to pull me aside and do whatever you need to do if I end up doing something that’s self-serving and not good for our people and those who rely on Erebor.”

“I’ll use my staff on your thick head if I have to,” the hobbit promised. “I won’t let you make the same mistakes your grandfather did; we both know what needs to be done to help those in need, and I know you want to ensure our people and those of Dale and Laketown need never to worry about not being able to feed their families again.”

“It won’t be easy,” he shared, helping her over uneven ground. “Dwarrow love their crafts because it shows our skill, and we want everything beautiful to be seen and admired. We work hard on our crafts, and many call us greedy because we see beauty in the raw ore and gems pulled out of the earth as well as the objects our hands create. I’m afraid we can get rather fixated on it.”

“We keep mathoms on shelves to be displayed after receiving them at birthday parties,” Hawthorn shared. “There’s at least one museum where we also store mathoms that might be too important to be passed around during birthday celebrations, but nobody really goes to look at them. I think if the dwarrow remember that selling their creations means more people get to see just how skillful the crafter is, and more opportunities to create things will open because the people who see the first item will want something for themselves.”

“Traditionally, the highest form of flattery for a craftsman is seeing the objects we create being used and loved,” the king-in-exile informed her. “Thror lost sight of that and wanted to love everything gold, not letting beautiful works to be sold in the markets.”

“So we help remind the dwarrow of what’s important, and let them create, sell, and create again,” she said to him. “I’ve heard of how wonderful the work of dwarrow are, but I never got to see how good they could be. Living in Tuckborough, I didn’t get to Hobbiton much for the main market and the market in Tuckborough never had any dwarven crafts to be seen.”

“I do believe we need to send the annual caravans to the Shire when we finally get Erebor restored and everyone focusing on their crafts,” Thorin commented. “I know hobbits have to go to Bree for anything that requires metal work, and I think it would be good for the journeymen to have a chance to show their works to people in hopes of selling them. It’ll give them the experience needed to advance in their craft.”

“I can contact my uncle later and ask,” the lass offered. “He might be willing to allow a caravan through and even allow a blacksmith to stay for a season or two a year. It’ll upset the blacksmiths in Bree, but the work of men, I am told, is not able to compare to the dwarven smiths.”

“You were told correctly,” he replied. “Elves are good at making weapons to a point, but we have our own ways of forging and imbuing with magic too.”

“I can’t wait for everyone to return to the mountain and be able to craft properly,” Hawthorn stated, leaning against him slightly as they walked. “I want to see what our people are capable of and be proud when compliments about our artisans come to us. I may be a hobbit, but I know that work like the daggers you made me and Frerin’s dagger are pieces of art in their own way.”

Her fingers touched where one sheath was hidden on her arm, and Thorin’s heart swelled with love and pride in knowing his One was proud to wear and use his work. She’d made sure all of them were sharpened properly when the company had returned them to her.

“I have a feeling our people are going to love you; you will give them the encouragement needed to do what they love,” he murmured. “I am proud to have such an amazing person as my One and truthfully, ukradel, I believe that you are Yavanna’s answer to the problems we have been having over the years in regards to how you see things.”

“I will do my best to not disappoint you or them,” Hawthorn said with a blush, then paused as the statues of the kings that flanked the gate were now easily seen. “Oh my.”

“They were much more impressive before Smaug came, but it looks as if they weathered the time after our departure better than I expected,” he replied. “I can only hope that he has not devastated the city much during his occupation.”

“Here’s hoping,” she answered. “Let’s see if we can’t find the door before tomorrow evening; we don’t want to miss Durin’s Day.”

“No, ukradel, we don’t,” the dwarf lord agreed, calling out to the company to find any sign of stairs or a way to where the hidden door might be.

Hawthorn sighed, leaning against her staff for a moment as she took in the raw beauty of the mountain that would be her new home soon. She was petrified about what was happening tomorrow evening and hoped she would not fail Thorin or the company because there simply was too much to lose. After hearing his story, the hobbit did not want to see her cariad mourning another loss.

The hobbit drew in a breath, clearing her mind, and set herself to helping the others try to find a way to the hidden door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – Translation time – fy brenin (my king), fy anwylyd (my beloved), and ukradel (greatest heart of all hearts). I do not speak Welsh so if I made a mistake, I apologize! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know what you thought. For those of you on Tumblr, I’m on there too under the name ladylaran. I’ll be posting update announcements, pictures that might coincide with stories that are posted, and other things depending on my mood. Anyway, see you all next time! ~ Laran


	37. Into Erebor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note - Everyone’s response to the last chapter has been incredible. I can’t thank all of you enough for taking the time to share your thoughts with me. You guys are really inspiring!
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this tale.

Kili was the one who finally spotted the stairs that had been cleverly carved into one of the massive statues, hidden in plain sight. In truth, Hawthorn wasn’t surprised he’d been the one to find them given just how good the dwarf’s eyesight was and she gave him a small hug, murmuring her praise in his ear. Thorin and Fili were right behind her, doing the same once she had released him, and causing the younger dwarf to blush a bit. 

The company headed to the stairs, pausing when Oin looked up and then back at Thorin with an expression of concern on his face when he realized something rather important.

“We’ll need someone to carry Hawthorn to the door. With her hip and leg, there’s no way she can make it up so many steps,” he informed the group. “I don’t want her aggravating that old injury if we can avoid it, especially since she’ll be needing to move as silently and carefully as she can once we get the door open.”

“We’ll divide it up into shifts and carry her up,” the king-in-exile stated, grateful Oin had said something to remind them of their hobbit’s difficulties.

“I’ll go first,” Dwalin volunteered, handing his pack to Ori and his ax to his brother to carry. “Let’s use some rope after she’s on my back so she won’t run the risk of falling.”

Hawthorn knew better than argue with the overprotective dwarrow, handing her staff to Kili before getting onto Dwalin’s back. She stayed still as she was tied on by Nori and while she waited, she wrapped her arms around the warrior’s neck.

“Comfortable, lass?”

“Somewhat, the armor is a bit uncomfortable to lean against but my hip and leg aren’t hurting too badly so this is a good thing to me,” she replied, making him chuckle. 

“That’s what we were hoping for,” the youngest son of Fundin stated. “Last thing we want is to have that old injury of yours act up.”

“Thank you for carrying me,” the hobbit told him, smiling when he just patted her hand in acknowledgment of her gratitude.

“All right, time to climb,” Dwalin commented, starting up the stairs with Dori behind him so the strong dwarf could ensure neither of them fell.

By the time they had reached the small landing, Hawthorn had been carried by four members of the company and she was grateful to all of them for ensuring she made it all right. She helped situate the packs before settling down to wait for the sun to set on Durin’s Day the next evening.

That night and the next day passed with stories quietly being shared, and Thorin often talked about different things that could be found within the mountain. He and Balin described what they could remember of the treasure room, trying to give as much information to Hawthorn as they could.

“I hate that we can’t go in there with you,” Kili said about an hour before sunset. “It’s not right that we have to send you in alone.”

“I don’t like going alone,” she answered truthfully. “But you needed a hobbit because Smaug won’t be able to recognize my scent so that means going in without all of you with me. I just hope he stays asleep but knowing our luck, that probably won’t be what I’ll find.”

“Let’s hope you’re wrong there,” Bombur stated, looking grim and worried. “We could use a change in luck for the better right now.”

“From your mouth to Mahal’s ears,” Dwalin grumbled. “We got here in time and in one piece so we should be grateful.”

“I am,” Thorin said quietly. “We’re almost home, and I am certain Mahal and His wife have been watching over us. Just this last bit to go.”

There was an odd flapping sound, and a raven came to rest in the center of their small camp.

“I have been ordered to ask if one of you is of the line of Durin,” the bird asked, making Hawthorn jump slightly in shock.

“I am Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror,” the king-in-exile answered. 

“I am Karc, grandson of the chief of the ravens,” the raven told him. “You are here to take the mountain back?”

“We are,” Thorin replied gravely. 

“Is there anything we can do to aid you,” Karc asked. “We remember our bond with the dwarrow of Erebor and wish to keep it continued.”

Thorin’s eyes met Hawthorn’s, realizing what was needed and glad the ravens had sent someone to their little campsite.

“My betrothed will be entering the mountain soon to determine if the dragon still lives and to find the Arkenstone. If Smaug’s weak point can be determined, we need someone willing to take this information to Bard of Laketown so he can strike if the dragon tries to destroy the town.”

“I will go with her and take the information to this Bard. He is known to us due to his friendship with the thrushes,” the bird shared. 

“I would be glad of the company,” she told him, still a bit rattled by the talking bird but managing to stay calm.

The rays of the setting sun soon struck the mountain and the thrush soon made itself known, trying to break a snail open against the stone. Thorin slipped the key into the keyhole, opening the door for the first time in well over a century.

The company was quiet, reverent as they took in the stone walls in the hallway that was revealed to them after the door was opened.

“I know these walls,” Thorin whispered, laying a gentle hand against the cold stone. “Remember it, Balin?”

“I do,” the adviser answered, voice choked with emotion. “You did it, Thorin.”

“Not yet but soon,” he said, unashamedly turning to Hawthorn with tears in his eyes.

“Soon,” she answered, walking towards him and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I promise, fy anwylyd, the dwarrow of Durin’s Folk will roam these halls once again. Karc?”

The raven flew to her shoulder and she headed down the corridor, replaying the instructions in her mind as she did so. Her small figure soon left the dwarrow behind, and she murmured softly to the bird.

“I have a ring with me that turns me invisible,” she told the raven. “I hate wearing it, but it’ll be useful while down here so the dragon won’t see us if he’s still alive. If you duck under my coat, it should keep you hidden. I’ll try not to squash you.”

Karc agreed, tucking himself into her coat as she donned the ring. He made a sound of dislike, not enjoying the way everything looked, and she murmured quietly to him.

“Now you see why I don’t like it,” Hawthorn told him. “I hope Mithrandir can do something about this wretched thing when things calm down enough for him to do so. Now, we’re close to the treasury so we’ll have to be extra quiet.”

The two made their way to the steps, and the hobbit looked at the mess in the treasury in dismay. Navigating this disaster would be difficult much less trying to find a rock in the heaps of gold. How was she to do this?

There was something else, a sound that made her heart pound faster in fear. The sound of deep breathing filled the huge room, carrying a message that the hobbit was not alone in this room and a certain squatter was certainly alive.

Hawthorn sighed, pulling herself together before stepping carefully out onto the gold. She had to step slowly, using the staff to help her keep her balance as she made her way across the piles of treasure. How had one dwarf accumulated so much or was this something Smaug had managed to bring in too? She wasn’t sure but one for certain, once they got rid of the dragon, the gold would need to be taken care of so as not to draw in another pest problem.

Her foot slipped against something round, and the hobbit was able to catch herself by bracing against her staff. In her mind, she begged for help from Mahal and Yavanna when she heard the change from the rhythmic deep breathing to something slightly faster.

“I hear you, thief, and I smell you. There is a faint scent of dwarf around you, but you are no dwarf. What manner of creature are you?”

Hawthorn swallowed, trying to calm down and think. She would have to be careful here; the books she’d read in Imladris about dragons warned that the beasts could manipulate people into sharing too much information. She would have to be clever and do her best to keep from being outwitted by this ancient creature.

“No, Smaug the Magnificent, I am no dwarf nor am I a thief,” she said to him, hands shaking as she gripped her staff.

The hobbit took several careful steps back, bracing herself against a stone pillar as a giant head lifted itself from the pile of gold it had been buried under. Her throat went tight, and she bit down on her lower lip to stop the scream of terror as the beast’s head tilted in an effort to find her.

“No, I wonder at your claim of not being a thief when you carry something that is not fashioned by dwarves,” the dragon observed. “Wood and mithril, carrying elvish magic, is not something that was in my hoard. Mithril is rare, and it is rarer still when an elf grants a magic imbued gift to one who is not an elf.”

Blue eyes widened as the realization sunk in. Smaug not only knew what was in this ostentatiously large hoard but also recognized other precious metals even when it wasn’t part of this hoard. As much as she needed her staff, she knew she should have left it back with the company.

“It was crafted for me after an accident I had when I was much younger,” she said. “I am an elf friend and consider one an uncle of my own heart.”

“Your words make me even more curious; step into the light so I may see my uninvited visitor,” the dragon ordered.

“You already have me at one disadvantage, good sir,” the hobbit replied, hoping he would take the bait. “If I did as you bade me, I would be at another as I see only part of you.”

As she had hoped, Smaug took the bait and pulled himself out of the piles of gold he’d slept under. The hobbit took a few steps back, murmuring to her avian companion as she did so.

“Now we’ll see if there’s a weakness to be found,” she said in a tiny whisper, eyes growing wide as he took several steps forward.

The dragon was massive, and she remembered him being considered lesser than the dragons of old. If the others had been bigger, she was grateful that none of them had come to Erebor. Smaug was too big as it was!

His wings unfolded, flapping several times and forcing her to brace herself to keep from being knocked over. She looked up in time, spotting the weakness over his heart where something had damaged the scales and knocked one loose.

“Do you see it,” the hobbit whispered to the raven, carefully drawing him out of her coat.

“I do,” he answered in a very soft voice.

“I’ll distract him; you must warn the dwarrow he lives and then tell Bard of the weakness we found,” she stated. “Be safe, Karc, and Yavanna watch over you.”

Hawthorn set the bird behind the pillar she was leaning against, and her voice was strong but gentle as she addressed the massive creature ahead of her.

“You are much bigger than I imagined,” she said, fingers gripping her staff tightly. “I’ve read stories of dragons over the years, but my imagination created poor representations now that I have a live dragon in front of me.”

All right, apparently dragons could preen when flattered and she would have to remember to make note of that in a small essay on dragons to update the books already written on them. Hawthorn was caught between laughing and crying so she allowed the compliments to continue in hopes of keeping Smaug’s attention on her.

“The books I read didn’t speak much of fire drakes like yourself,” she said. “I will admit to being disappointed that I cannot sketch you so others can see how magnificent you are. I’ve no drawing implements with me.”

“You are well spoken for such a guest,” he purred, ignoring the small bird that flew out of the room when he settled in a resting position. “Now, you must speak of yourself. What are you?”

“No one of any importance,” Hawthorn told him. 

“You must be of some importance to carry elvish enchanted mithril,” he insisted. 

“I am outcast by my own kind, taken in and loved by another,” she answered, putting as much thought into the description as she could. “I come from under the hills and have crossed mountains and forests, sometimes walking unseen.”

“Riddles,” he growled. “I seek answers, not riddles.”

Blue eyes widened when he shifted and an orb of light was revealed, uncovered when the gold slipped away. That had to be what Thorin needed to call upon the other dwarf lords for aid!

A plume of fire blazed not far from where she stood, and she struggled to get out of the way of the heat. Hawthorn tugged the ring off, dropping it into her pocket as she tried to stay steady on the uneven ground. She was hoping that the sight of her might distract him enough for her to escape; her being invisible only seemed to agitate the drake further, and she needed him to stop trying to set the room on fire in an attempt to find her.

“So there you are,” Smaug observed, watching as she leaned against the staff. 

He edged closer to her, making her back up until she made contact with another pillar. The scaled face was too close, and Hawthorn was fighting her terror as she had no way to escape or fight. She could sense Thorin’s concern and then resolution, and she screamed when her staff was sent flying by one of Smaug’s front claws. Her wrist ached from the impact of the blow, and the hobbit pulled it against her belly to try to keep it safe.

“That is mine now. I will accept it as both tribute and payment for trespassing in my home,” he purred at her, sniffing deeply. “Outside of the faint human stench on your clothes, I recognize the scent lingering on you. Durin blood so you must be connected to one of the surviving members of the royal family. You’re not a bed warmer, at least not yet as I can still smell the purity on you, but you are very close to one of them.”

The terror kept building up as he pushed her hard against the pillar; the angle she was in, there was no way she could reach for her blade. Not that the small sword could do any damage against the tough scale and hide of the creature in front of her.

There was a soft whistling sound that was heard before the dragon pulled back slightly with a loud roar, and she noticed an arrow in his eye. She drew her blade, plunging it into the other eye in hopes of evening things out for them. Hawthorn barely managed to keep her grip on her sword as Smaug shook his head hard, and she went flying. The hobbit landed against the wall, sliding down it to rest against the treasure, and her vision was all out of focus. 

She heard the war cries of her company as well as the soft voice of her father before everything went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – I think I’m going to hide in my bunker now because I have a feeling people are going to want to hunt me down for the cliffhanger. I hope you all enjoyed it! Check out my tumblr under ladylaran. See everyone next time! ~Laran


	38. Dragon Tale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note - I’m glad I wasn’t hunted down for the cliffhanger I left last week. I felt for sure I’d be in huge trouble for it, but it seemed the chapter was enough to merit forgiveness. I hope this chapter will be worth your wait!
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

When Hawthorn returned to consciousness, she found herself in a dimly lit room that was fairly quiet and carried the faint scent of having been recently aired out. She must have made a sound because within a moment of waking, she recognized all of the faces belonging to her company standing around her. None of them spoke, allowing Thorin a chance to question her softly.

“Ukradel, how are you feeling?”

“The dragon,” the hobbit gasped, trying to sit up but was gently pushed back onto the bedroll she was laying on.

“Calm yourself,” Oin said quietly, gesturing for everyone to sit down and not crowd her so much. “The dragon has been handled and is no longer a threat to anyone. Answer the question Thorin asked, child. How do you feel?”

“My head hurts,” she admitted truthfully. “My back aches too.”

“You didn’t break anything, but it was a near miss. Your encounter with the damned worm didn’t do you any favors. Your sprained your wrist somehow, have a concussion, and you’ll be bruised from shoulder to hip for a while,” he reported.

“He hit me with one of his front paws and forced my staff away from me,” the lass said softly. “My wrist started throbbing almost right after it happened.”

“That would be how you sprained it then; we weren’t sure how you had done it since you hit the wall with your back,” Oin commented, helping her drink some water and gave her a few sips of the pain relief mixture he had created after the confrontation with the dragon.

Thorin angled himself so that she could rest her head in his lap in comfort while he began to speak of what had happened, knowing she wanted to know.

“After Karc came through, speaking to us of Smaug’s survival and the weakness you two had found, I monitored our bond in case you might need our aid. I realized something was wrong when you went from being nervous and somewhat afraid to absolutely terrified. 

“We hurried down the hallway to find Smaug pinning you against the pillar; I didn’t even have to give the order, Kili had already let the arrow fly.”

“He hit him in the eye,” Hawthorn said softly, recalling that moment. “It made him back up enough where I could draw my sword and try to hurt the other one.”

“You didn’t try, lassie, you succeeded. That little stinger of yours went right into that other eye, and you kept a solid hold on that little letter opener. You still had it in your hand when you went flying,” Dwalin said. “Scared us half to death when you did it too.”

“I thought my heart would stop,” Thorin admitted, gently running fingers through her hair. “Oin went directly to you so he could get you to a safe spot while the rest of us went after the worm. Despite not being able to see, the vile thing still was able to smell us coming but I think our fewer numbers worked to our advantage. He had a difficult time trying to track us as well as he would have if he could have seen us.

“Kili found a vantage point and kept trying to aim for the spot Karc told us about, but his arrows weren’t long enough to hit Smaug in the heart. All of us were trying to get him to rear up enough so Kili could target it, but Fili and Ori eventually found the solution to the problem.”

“What happened?”

“I got knocked down a hill of gold by the tail, took Ori with me at the same time,” Fili admitted. “It caused a small avalanche, which uncovered a rather long pike.”

“I’m not familiar with what that is,” the hobbit admitted.

“It’s a very long spear with a sharp blade at the end,” the blond prince told her. “It’s used against cavalry units during battles to get them off of their horses and onto the ground to even out the odds. It’s not something our armies used back then so it was probably meant as a commission for a human army.

“Anyway, Ori and I picked it up and had to climb our way back up the hill. Mahal was watching over us because Uncle Thorin and Dwalin had the beast in the perfect angle so he couldn’t scent our approach. We moved under him, and both of us thrust that pike into the vulnerable spot. I couldn’t have done it alone; Ori’s strength was what was needed to end the worm’s life.”

Hawthorn could see the blush on the scribe’s face and pride on his brothers’ faces, and she smiled. 

“Two dragon-slayers in our company,” she said quietly. “We’ll have to write odes and songs for you both. Was anyone hurt?”

“Nori has a few broken ribs,” Thorin answered. “Bofur two broken fingers, and the rest of us are bruised but nothing life threatening, thank Mahal.”

The hobbit was quiet for a moment, then smiled as she reached up to rest the palm of her hand against her betrothed’s jaw.

“You did it, fy brenin. Erebor is yours once again, and your people will have a safe place to call home,” she murmured. “Now comes the difficult part.”

Thorin’s eyes shone brightly as he rested a hand over hers, holding it in place. He could sense the joy she was feeling, and it just made his own happiness at being here that much richer.

“What difficult part is that,” Kili asked.

“Rebuilding,” the king answered. “There is much to do in the coming days, and we are few in number. Ori, see if you can find some writing materials. I need to send a message to Dain for supplies and aid until our people come from the Blue Mountains. I also need to inform Dis of our victory and tell her to proceed with the plans to bring our people home.”

“Will he come without the Arkenstone,” Gloin asked, not too pleased with their absent cousin since Dain should have been here with them for all of this.

“With the dragon gone, I imagine he will not find it too much of a hardship to answer my call now. As far as the stone is concerned, we’ll find it when we can.”

“I caught a glimpse of it, but I didn’t have time to go after it because Smaug stayed so focused on me,” Hawthorn murmured. “Thorin, that room is too full of mathoms. How much of that is due to your grandfather’s illness?”

“I am not certain, but I believe most of it is due to his greed,” the king answered grimly. “I imagine the rest of it must be from Dale so we’ll have to check everything for maker’s marks. Knowing Grandfather, everything he put into the treasury was documented so we’ll need to find the ledgers and compare what’s in there against the mess in the treasure hall. I want what isn’t ours to go to their rightful owners; Dale will need its wealth returned when the time is right.”

“Something needs to be done about how much is sitting in there,” the hobbit murmured as the company talked amongst themselves for several moments. “That gold will draw another dragon to us if we’re not careful.”

“That is my greatest fear and concern right now,” Thorin admitted. “There is so much to be done to rebuild, and it will take a long time to get the treasure sorted and handled as well as breaking down the worm’s corpse before it desecrates my mountain further with its stink.”

“Mithrandir might have ideas for us on the treasure issue,” she suggested. “If his task went well, hopefully he’ll be here soon and you can talk to him about your worries. I know dragons have some form of magic, and the idea of Smaug leaving a taint here is frightening.”

“I want to find weapons and armor to ensure everyone here has what they need in case of problems, and then I’m going to lock the treasury down until Gandalf arrives,” he answered. “Oin, Balin, and I were speaking of similar worries earlier.”

“When you write your sister, remind her to stop by the Shire. I don’t know if my letter to uncle helped to open negotiations, but I know there’s extra seed stock and other items that will go a long way to helping Erebor and Dale during planting times,” she suggested.

“I shall do so,” he assured her as Ori returned. “Rest now, ukradel, and heal. There’s a great deal I want to show you when you are better.”

Hawthorn smiled, drifting off to sleep once her dwarf had given her a kiss. For the most part, her dreams were happy ones but there was always someone close by to soothe her in case shadows tried to haunt her rest.

The next day, the hobbit woke feeling a bit better mentally though her body was screaming at her in pain. She had a feeling that movement would be difficult until the bruises on her back healed, but she was resolved to do whatever she could to help get the company settled and things ready for rebuilding.

“Good morning, Miss Hawthorn,” Bombur greeted from the cooking fire that had been set up in the hearth.

“Good morning, Bombur,” she called back, struggling to sit up. “How long did I sleep?”

“You slept through the day yesterday after the discussion,” the heavy dwarf replied, going to help her sit up on her bedroll and allowing her to lean against the wall to brace herself. “Oin woke you occasionally to make sure you were all right.”

“Strange, I don’t remember him doing that,” the hobbit admitted, accepting a bowl of porridge.

“He said you might not; you were sleeping rather heavily but responded to the questions he asked so he didn’t seem too concerned.”

“Where is everyone,” she asked, realizing it was just her and Bombur in the room.

“Thorin, Balin, and Ori went up to the area where the ravens roost,” he answered, stacking supplies neatly. “They want to make sure it’s safe for the returning birds and see if any messages were sent. The lads and Dori have gone to see if any bedding has survived since we’re going to bunk here until the living quarters are cleaned and repaired. Bofur, Oin, and Bifur are on a scavenging hunt for anything we can use here. Nori, Gloin, and Dwalin are searching for anything useful in the treasury since Thorin wants us to have armor and weapons on hand for emergencies.”

“I hope they find my staff,” she commented after swallowing a bite of the breakfast she’d been given. 

“Dwalin said something about looking for it when he and Nori left earlier,” Bombur shared, turning his head when they heard voices in the hallway.

A few moments later, Thorin, Ori, and Balin entered the room and smiled when they saw Hawthorn was awake. 

“Good morning, Miss Hawthorn,” the scribe called out.

“Good morning, Ori,” she replied, finishing her breakfast. “I was told everyone is busy today. How did you task go?”

“It went well; the roost is still secure and in good repair,” Thorin answered, slipping out of his coat and laying it on his pack. “There was a message from Dain this morning; he will be on his way soon with troops and supplies.”

“That’s good news,” she said with a smile, handing the empty bowl to Bombur. “Extra hands to help around here will be useful with everything that needs to be done, but I have to ask is it wise to allow them in after Dain refused to help Thorin reclaim the kingdom?”

“Agreed,” Balin replied, sitting down. “There’s a lot to be done; that’s for certain and having Dain’s people here will help get things moving properly. In regards to the concern you raised, it will be fine having him and his people here. I can understand why he didn’t want to put his people at risk against a dragon, and Thorin understands too even if he had been angry about our cousin’s decision.”

“That’s good to know; I didn’t want to see any more problems develop because of these otusiders. Will some of them want to stay once the help is no longer needed,” she asked.

“It’s possible,” Thorin answered, sitting down beside her. “After the worm’s attack, the Iron Hills took as many of our people as they could without straining their resources – mainly our elderly and a few of the nobles who did not want to spend time in exile in the wild. The rest went with us as we wandered. I hated that we had to split up like that, but the decision was not mine to make and our own resources were precariously low.

“I don’t mind the return of the ones who had no alternative but to take advantage of Dain’s welcome, but the nobles are ones I would much rather not return to Erebor as I have no doubt they will want to continue to maintain their positions and status.”

“I can understand not wanting them around because they weren’t there to help you support your people during Durin’s Folk’s exile from Erebor,” she commented. “Are there other reasons to not wanting them here?”

Thorin’s jaw worked for a moment as he struggled to pull his thoughts together, and Balin answered the question since this was something he had discussed with Thorin and Dis.

“They very much prefer to keep to the way Thror ran things when he ruled here; they were able to become very wealthy and cared nothing for the people they were supposed to help lead. Thorin has plans that would be against what they would want.”

“Indeed, which is why I plan on appointing my advisers and council before any of the old gray-beards can think of returning,” the king said. “They will not come with Dain since it means they would have to work, but I expect them to return around the time my sister arrives or slightly after.”

“How much trouble can they cause?”

“While most of the nobles would be pleased I found my One, these particular gray-beards would do all they could to hinder our marriage,” Thorin told her. “Despite the fact that Mahal created Ones, they would argue that there would be no way a hobbit could be mine.”

“Rather ignorant,” she commented. “Yavanna is Mahal’s wife, and She is the Mother of my people so saying I can’t be your One is saying they don’t accept the Green Lady as the wife of your creator.”

Thorin smiled at that, heartened by her reminder that they honored their creators by their own pairing.

“You are correct, ukradel,” he said gently. “I will remind them of this should they make their way to Erebor and seek to cause turmoil over our bond.”

“A bond I can never regret having; you saved my life yesterday. I couldn’t move, and he could’ve killed me at any moment,” she whispered, looking frightened.

The dwarf arranged himself to sit beside her, wrapping an arm gently around her shoulders, and tugged her to lean against him. He pressed soft kisses to her hair, letting calmness and reassurance pass down the bond to her. It was still a learning process, but he had recently figured out how to ease her fears by using the link that was growing between them.

“I would never let anything happen to you,” Thorin promised quietly. “You were so incredibly brave, Hawthorn, and I am proud of you. Thank you for going in there to find his weakness and finishing the task Kili started.”

“Thank you for coming to my rescue,” she said, looking up at him. 

“Always,” he promised again, kissing her softly before resting his forehead against hers. 

The growing bond between them thrummed with joy and contentment as the couple simply enjoyed the chance to be together. They were quiet, uninterrupted by the returning dwarrow, and were content to simply stay close together for the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – I hope this was an update all of you enjoyed! Thank you for reading; please let me know what you thought of the story! ~ Laran


	39. Plans, Repairs, and Discoveries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – I do apologize for not getting this out on Wednesday. I’ve been dealing with health issues and found out I’ve got a double whammy in regards to sinus and ear infections. I’m a bit of a zombie since my doctor has me on several types of antibiotics and steroids to knock this crap out fast.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

The next few days had passed fairly peacefully as the company found things that could be of use to them. Some of them spent time ensuring the gate was repaired enough to hold anything attacking from outside but could be opened to welcome the dwarrow Dain was sending.

Hawthorn had spent part of her time in the treasury, looking for her staff alongside Gloin, Nori, and Dwalin. She hoped it could be found soon as she was so very stiff; the bruising from her collision against the wall had yet to fade, and Oin had warned her that it would take time to do so since there was probably layers of bruising beneath the first layer given how hard she’d hit.

Though the hobbit was still so very pleased with the outcome, a part of her was growing worried about her betrothed. Thorin had been slightly withdrawn lately, having to be reminded occasionally to eat or rest, and she wondered if she was just being overly concerned since he had been focused on working with the company to ensure they were safe and had what was needed to be somewhat comfortable as they waited for Dain and the supplies he was sending. He would joke with his nephews and family, but she could sense something wasn’t quite right and it troubled her.

She was so lost in thought, she wasn’t quite paying attention to her footing and tripped over some heavy object. The hobbit let out a small cry, tumbling down a mound of gold to land in a small little valley.

“Are you all right,” Nori asked, then froze. “Mahal, I can’t believe it.”

Gloin and Dwalin hurried to the dwarf’s side, freezing as well when they spotted what was laying in the girl’s lap.

Hawthorn blinked, dusting off the golden coins and pausing when the gem in her lap caught her attention. It matched the description of the stone Thorin needed, and she looked up at the three of them.

“Is this it?”

“Aye, that’s the Arkenstone,” Dwalin answered. “You found it, and we weren’t even trying to look for it!”

“I can’t believe it’d fall into my lap like this,” she answered, staring at the stone resting on her legs. 

“Me either,” Gloin said with a laugh. “I think it’s a good omen. Tuck it into your pocket, and you can present it to Thorin tonight at supper. We really need to find weapons and armor, and that staff of yours still hasn’t shown itself.”

The lass tucked the gem into her pocket, accepting Dwalin’s help in getting to her feet, and she rejoined them in looking through the treasure. It took the better part of two hours for her staff to be found, and it was Nori who had discovered it. He handed it to her with a grin, and then the dwarrow urged her to exit the treasury since she was unsteady on the heaps of gold. They really didn’t want her to fall again, a sentiment she heartily agreed with.

Hawthorn was grateful to leave the large chamber, not liking the feeling in the room, and she went to find either Thorin or Oin. She found her father, telling him what had happened in the treasury. He promptly steered her back to the room where the company had been bedding down and ordered her to take a rest. He gave her a bit of pain tonic, staying until she drifted back to sleep.

The hobbit woke much later, finding the entire company in the room. They were quietly joking and getting settled for the evening, and she spotted Bombur working on their evening meal. Dwalin and Nori were inspecting her staff, making sure it had not taken damage during her confrontation with Smaug.

Slowly, Hawthorn sat up and leaned against the wall. The motion caught Thorin’s eye, and he smiled at her before speaking.

“Now that she’s awake, I’d like to hear the reports from everyone,” he said, moving to sit beside her.

“The gate is functional now,” Bofur reported. “It’s not pretty, but it’ll open and close as well as hold up if we have anyone trying to get in when they shouldn’t. It was a matter of reinforcing the mechanisms, and they’ll need replacing pretty quick. It should hold for a while as long as nothing too powerful tries to pound their way in.”

“Ori, would you start a list of repairs for me. The gates should be at the top of it since the safety of the people is tantamount,” Thorin said. “Good work everyone; we’ll get them fixed first so as to keep everyone protected.”

“I found bedding that had been put away in cedar chests,” Dori spoke up next. “That’s just what we found in the King’s Hall, and it’ll be enough to keep us warm for the winter. I also found spare fabric and clothing I can adjust so we’ll have clean clothes as soon as I have the time to make alterations to them. There’s probably more spare blankets in the market as well as the other homes, but we’ve not had time to go hunting for them.”

“If we can manage it, let’s not go into the homes until we’re ready to document who the owners had been if it’s possible so we can ensure any returning families have their homes to return to. The dwellings whose lines died out will be offered to any who have no homes – priority to families with bairns first.

“The clothing idea is a good one; we need to stay clean to keep healthy. Do what you can, and pull in others who can sew to help you.”

“There’s a bathing room in the King’s Halls,” Fili told his uncle. “I remember you telling us about it and the other hot springs in Erebor. From what we can see, the King’s Halls look to be intact and the spring is clear with fresh water and no pest problems. We can take advantage of that, especially those who have been hurt.”

“Did you get to take a look at the structure of the halls to make sure they’re sound?”

“We dragged Bifur with us once we realized the hot springs was in great shape,” Kili replied. “He has more experience, and he taught us what to look for.” 

“Stone feels safe and sturdy,” the former miner replied. “Toilets are functioning too, drawing water in and out, but didn’t test the sinks. I’m not trained in plumbing.”

“Let’s move in to the halls tomorrow,” Thorin suggested. “They won’t need as much repair, and we can work around that until the major repairs for Erebor are lined out. I want to leave this room for Dain’s troops as well as open up a few more if possible so they have a place to bunk until Dain is ready to return home.”

“I checked on the healing ward,” Oin stated from his position near Hawthorn. “Mattresses and linens are ruined with age, which I expected. Furniture is solid. It needs a good scrubbing, someone to check the plumbing, and resupplying.”

“That’s good news. We’ll try to get that as quickly as possible,” Thorin told him. “It needs to be ready in case of accidents or illness.”

Ori put that at the top of the list; the King’s Halls were at the bottom because he knew Thorin would demand that his people had a place to sleep first before he allowed the halls to be repaired and renovated.

“From the looks of things so far,” Bofur stated. “The damage done was to the entry hall, a few walkways, and the treasury. All that damage was due to the dragon coming in or us fighting the bastard. I’d suggest getting someone to examine the flooring of the treasury when possible due to the sheer weight of the gold and dragon in there, plus a few columns were broken during the fight. I’m worried about the structural integrity there.”

“That location will be the absolute last for repairs or any work outside of making sure the structure is sound,” the king said in response. “Dwalin, were you, Gloin, and Nori able to find what we need?”

“Aye,” he answered. “Armor and weapons for everyone, even found Frerin’s bow that my father made for him for his name day. I figured you’d want Kili to have that.”

“Good, lock up the room and give the key to Nori,” Thorin ordered. “He’ll be the last person anyone would consider holding the key, and I don’t want anyone else in there until we know for certain that the dragon hasn’t tainted anything. Once Tharkun examines it and deems it safe, Gloin I’d like you to spend a few hours a day on inventory to pull out what doesn’t belong to this kingdom. Bard will need Dale’s treasure returned to him when he’s ready.”

“I’ll set up a second storage room and have Nori lock it when I’m ready,” he answered his cousin, passing a small package to Thorin. “We found the item you were asking us to find.”

Nori set Hawthorn’s staff by her bedding, grinning when she beamed at him.

“Thank you! I hope it didn’t take you too long to look it over,” the hobbit told the pair, who chuckled.

“Not long,” Dwalin assured her. “Even with the dragon smacking it out of your hand and the shuffling around during the battle, there’s not a scratch on it at all.”

“I feel relieved to know it’s all right,” she said, looking happy. “Oh, speaking of the treasury, Thorin, I found something for you. It sort of fell right into my lap when I took a tumble down a pile of gold.”

The king turned when he heard her words, and everyone went silent when the Arkenstone was pressed into his hands. He examined it a moment, then leaned in to kiss her softly.

“Thank you, ukradel. This way, if I am challenged about my right to sovereignty, I have the means to prove it.”

“You’re welcome,” she answered, pleased when he handed it to Balin.

“Keep this somewhere safe please, cousin. I have plans to have a new throne made, and the Arkenstone will be placed somewhere in another part of the mountain. Given the problems my grandfather had, I have no wish to fall under the gold sickness. I want it put into the mountain but in a way none can access it, but it can be seen as proof that Erebor’s heart has been restored.”

“If it’s not on throne, can that cause problems for you,” Ori asked, looking up at his king.

“No because the lords of the Longbeard clan will swear fealty to me and the bloodline,” Thorin replied. “I will no longer allow an object to be sworn to; it’s the king who leads, and the king is one of the holders of the bloodline of Durin himself. If they don’t like it, I can easily appoint their replacements.”

Balin and a few of the older company members looked pleased by his decision, and the head adviser bowed his head to his king.

“As you will it, my king,” he answered.

The planning session went on through dinner, and Ori took detailed notes as he did so. A lot of things were discussed, and Thorin felt satisfied once it was done. Having a plan was reassuring, and he would do everything to ensure his people were safe and thriving once more.

He was so lost in thought, he jumped slightly when Hawthorn touched his arm. He looked into her blue eyes, seeing concern there.

“It’s all right, Hawthorn; I was just thinking about the plans,” the dwarf lord reassured her.

“You’re not eating again, and it’s not the first time I’ve caught you doing that or being lost in thought. I know you have a lot on your mind, fy brenin, but please try to take better care of yourself,” she asked, sounding worried.

“I will, ukradel,” he promised, kissing her softly. “There’s just a lot to be done.”

“I know, but the situation isn’t as dark as we feared. This is a time of work and planning, but it’s also a time to be happy. The exile is almost at an end.”

Thorin rested his forehead against hers, smiling lovingly at her. She was right, and he needed to try to remember that this was a joyful time. He would try to express his happiness because the Valar had blessed him and his people.

“Thank you, my love,” he murmured. “You always manage to say or do the right thing to help me stay on task and remember what’s important.”

“That’s what I’m supposed to do,” she said, smiling back. “Now, eat before I have Bombur sit on you so Dwalin can feed you.”

That sparked laughter from him, and he threw his head back as he did so. Oh yes, he was certainly blessed and hoped she would continue to put a smile on his face even when the days were dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – I hope everyone enjoyed it! Hopefully, things cooperate so I can post on Wednesday like I usually do. Thanks for reading! ~ Laran


	40. A Future Queen's Wisdom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note - Good news is that the earaches are fading; I’m in the final days of my antibiotic treatment. Bad news is that “Shadows of the Past” will be delayed. My mother is our beta, and she’s been dealing with health issues. I went to a friend’s house this last weekend and came home Sunday to find her on the floor. She’d fallen Saturday and had been stuck from Saturday until late Sunday night. She’s getting stronger, but she’s not had time to learn her new computer (one of the chores I had to take care of was buying a used bare bones for my brother to rebuild so she could catch up on the beta work). I’m hoping she’ll have it done tonight or tomorrow. So thank you so much for your patience and any good thoughts/prayers you send our way!
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this tale.

The next few days passed swiftly, and the company moved into the King’s Halls. Thorin reclaimed his old rooms, stating he would move into the set of rooms his grandfather had lived in only after it had been gutted and redone later. The rooms had been overly decorated with too much gold, and Thorin didn’t feel comfortable there. He knew it would take more work to get it ready for his future bride, and it was time that needed to be spent on renovations elsewhere. It would give him time to make plans for the renovations so that the rooms would be comfortable for his hobbit.

Hawthorn lived in the suite where Oin and Gloin had been born; she would live with her heart family until she and Thorin married. Those who had family living here in this particular hall before Smaug’s attack reclaimed the rooms that had housed their family. Dori, Nori, and Ori chose a set of rooms for themselves as did Bofur, Bombur, and Bifur.

Everything had been going smoothly, although she did catch Thorin’s attention drifting at times, and she could feel something odd through the bond when that happened. It worried her more and more when it occurred, and she finally sat Oin and Gloin down after the day had finished and explained what she was sensing and observing from her cariad. 

The pair listened to what she had to say, frowning before the healer spoke.

"It might be a hint of the gold sickness," Oin mused. "I think it's not settling because of the growing bond between you two; his love for you is pushing it out, but it's trying to set in. He's holding it off so far; his actions and decisions speak volumes to that."

Hawthorn frowned, leaning back in her seat. She was glad it wasn't taking full hold, but she wasn't sure how to help him. The hobbit mentioned this, hoping her family would have some advice for her.

"Keep spending time with him, lass, and remind him what's important. I'll talk to the lads and make sure they do the same," Gloin told his niece. "That should help keep it at bay until you two are married and bond sealed. Once the bond is complete, there's no room for the sickness to try to take him because your mind will balance his. It took hold of Thror after his One died since he had nothing to take her place in his heart."

"It's a good thing you noticed the problem and told us," the healer stated. "I'll warn Balin, just in case, so he'll know to send for you and the lads if Thorin shows any sign of the distraction you're noticing. We'll keep him as grounded as we can until your wedding."

That bit of advice helped her through the morning but when midday arrived, everything went beyond pear-shaped and she was ready to throw something in a fit of ill-temper. 

Bard had arrived, which wouldn't have been so bad, but Thranduil had arrived with a rather large contingent of armed elves. His presence didn't just upset the company, but it had also angered her and her mind raced with thoughts as she observed the growing situation. 

Hawthorn stood in the shadows as the pair spoke to Thorin; she could sense her cariad's impatience and fury, but it was tinged with that odd feeling she'd been picking up from him since the dragon's death. She sighed, fingers of her free hand tapping against her thigh as she listened to the conversation.

Bard had gotten everyone who wanted to evacuate ready, but word of their imminent departure had reached the master of Laketown. The vile man had argued with the descendent of Girion, stating there was no danger, and the others who had agreed to go with Bard had told the master they didn't believe him.

The master had retaliated by banishing everyone who had believed Bard and had been willing to leave with him; the group had not been allowed boats and had walked from the bridge to the other side of the lake to approach Erebor.

The hobbit was sympathetic for the people's plight, and she could tell her cariad was as well. However, Thranduil kept intervening when Thorin attempted to treat with Bard, acting as if the dwarf would cheat the humans and that the elves were here to get what everyone deserved due to the actions of the former king of Erebor. The elf was doing everything he could to make Thorin look bad, and she was growing very sick of it.

It was becoming a diplomatic nightmare, and Hawthorn had a solution which hung on soothing the king's temper and hopefully helping him fully out of the pull of the gold madness until their bond was complete.

When Thorin stormed off the battlements, the lass pulled her uncle, father, and Balin to one side. She quietly told them of her plan, and the trio agreed that her idea had a great deal of merit. The adviser went to pull the dwarrow aside who would be needed to help with the plan, and Hawthorn went back to the rooms she shared with her family.

Gloin came in with a tea tray, found and prepared by Dori, and he answered the door when the expected knock came.

"Cousin, your betrothed wishes to speak privately with you," the red haired dwarf told the king. "Her father and I are agreeing to this meeting but to keep to the protocols around the betrothal, I will be in another room to act as chaperone."

"I agree, cousin, and thank you for your dedication to ensuring our betrothal goes smoothly," Thorin replied.

"Be welcome to our home," Gloin said to him, guiding him into the sitting room of the suite before heading to the kitchen where he could monitor things unobtrusively.

Hawthorn rose, kissing him sweetly before gesturing him to take a seat. She poured tea for them, doctoring it in a way she remembered he enjoyed, and then handed it to him. He took a sip of it, and she could see him slowly relaxing as the heat of the beverage calmed him.

"Thank you, ukradel. I truly needed this," he said to her, making her smile.

"You're welcome, fy brenin; I'm glad it's helping to calm you," she answered, taking a sip of her tea. "Thank you for coming, Thorin. I know you said that if I needed to discuss something with you that may be taken as being contrary to you, then I should arrange to talk to you privately."

"Thank you for remembering that," he answered, sipping his tea. "I take it you wish to discuss the situation with Bard and the damned elf?"

"I do," she told him, taking another sip of her tea before addressing her concerns. "I feel the only solution to handle the situation in a way that makes you and your people out to be more compassionate than that arrogant buffoon portrays you to be is to address this issue without giving the elf a target. I know the story of what he did, felt the hurt and anger, but I must ask you this. Thorin, what was the one thing that ran through your mind when you saw his people approaching and then leave?"

The dwarf frowned, opening memories he had tried so hard to keep buried over the years. His anger had simmered for a long time, and he had no wish for that to taint his future here in Erebor with Hawthorn.

"When I saw him, I felt hope because I had seen the injuries my people had taken. My mother was injured badly when she pulled a child out of the way of dragon fire, and I knew the elves had the means of treating serious burns of that nature. We're prepared for forge accidents but nothing like what happened that day. When I realized he was there, I had hoped he would help treat the injured as I had no desire to loose anymore of my people that day.

"The death toll when Smaug attacked was catastrophic, and the deaths following our exile from home plunged our numbers so low that it will take several generations to rebuild – if Mahal and His Lady bless us. Complications from injuries, limited food and water, and no shelter were the leading causes of death for Durin's Folk as we wandered to find a home."

"His refusal to show compassion was the leading cause for your hatred of him and his people," Hawthorn said. "I cannot blame you for that, but you must find a way to aid Bard and his fellow exiles."

Thorin set his cup down, running fingers through his hair and tugging on it for a moment in frustration.

"How? Every word I say, that damned elf twists to make me sound as if I have no heart for their plight! I understand their needs better than they think!"

Hawthorn set her cup down and took his hands in hers, meeting his eyes.

"I know you do so we must do this intelligently," she told him. 

"You have a scheme in mind, don't you," he asked, eyes showing curiosity.

"I do, my king, and I humbly ask you hear me out?"

"I will listen," the king told her, holding her hands as she began to explain the idea she had thought of earlier.

"They will think you are gold mad since the arrogant king out there has been manipulating the situation," Hawthorn began. "While there has been some occasional concern with you forgetting to eat and getting distracted, the company knows better because our bond is keeping you focused on what's important. The first step is to prove to Bard that you are more than willing to keep your promise in aiding him and his people and in showing compassion, you will be proving yourself to be the better king.

"If you approve of my idea, then this is what should happen. Send a raven to Bard and request a meeting between him and your chosen ambassador to discuss terms regarding shelter, food, and assistance to his people."

"You don't think I should do this," he asked, frowning a bit.

"No, I don't and for several reasons. One, I have no wish for the elf king to sit there and try to twist every word you speak to make you seem greedy and opportunistic. Second, I know you would start visualizing strangling him after two minutes into the meeting and while I wouldn't blame you for it, it would distract you from what is important. Three, you'll lose your temper and I certainly wouldn't hold you at fault for that either. Finally, if you're not there, Thranduil has to stop being a horse's arse and actually do the right thing," she said, noticing he was relaxing as she explained her reasons.

"So my chosen ambassador would address the needs of the exiled people who followed Bard," Thorin said. "Which means I should sit with the company to present my ideas and get their opinions on it since they are to be my council once my people return."

"They may be rough around the edges, but there is a lot of wisdom in them. I believe it's a good idea to have them on that council of yours. Going out there with a list of offers is a wise idea but Thranduil will need to be addressed while out there as well."

"I dislike having to negotiate with that elf," he groaned.

"Again, this is why you're sending an ambassador. I would suggest having the company find the chest of the gems and jewelry Thror should have given Thranduil. One gem should be removed as a sign of faith that we will work with the elves of Mirkwood under a fully witnessed treaty. However, before said treaty can happen, he needs to return the items taken from the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. The chest will be given once all of the belongings are returned. I suggest we have a list of everything taken so they can't forget anything and try to make Erebor look as if we're at fault.

"There's also something I learned in Imladris that can be used to pull the elf king's fangs so he'll have to stop with his childish behavior and actually act as a king should. Erebor needs the treaty as does Dale and Mirkwood, and it can be done but only if certain steps are taken to prevent another broken agreement."

Thorin nodded, seeing a lot of wisdom in her words, and he knew that he had to follow her plan. The determination to see to it that Bard's people did not suffer as his had pushed the tendrils of gold sickness away; Hawthorn's comment about what she had observed had alterted him to the problem, and he would do everything he could to ensure that he did not fall as his grandfather had.

"We will do as you suggested, ukradel; would you be willing to be the ambassador for Erebor?"

"I'll be truthful and admit I was hoping you would ask," the hobbit answered with a smile. "While I have no desire to do it all the time, I am honored to act as ambassador for you here and speak with the authority you have given me."

"Let me summon the company, send the raven to Bard to request the meeting, and we will come up with ideas for you to present to him. When did you want to meet with them?"

"This afternoon," Hawthorn said. "Sooner we get them into some form of shelter, the better. It also gives Thranduil less time to try to harden Bard's heart against us."

"I wish for you to take Dwalin and Kili with you for protection," Thorin told her. "With the ribbon and bead, I have no doubt Thranduil will know who you are to me."

"I was hoping you'd suggest escorts for protection," she answered. "I would also like to borrow Ori for note taking and writing of the contracts as well as Balin to ensure that a member of the Line of Durin is there. He's got enough political experience to help without stepping on my toes; Kili has the training but not the experience."

"You will have them at your side," he replied, going to fetch a raven and summon the company to the suite where Hawthorn was staying.

Once he was gone, the hobbit drew in a deep breath of relief. She had hoped that he would listen to her since she had done the right thing and addressed the problem with him in private. Now, all that was left was to work on the offer from Thorin and handle a certain arrogant elf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's End Note - I hope this helps soothe some worries regarding Thorin and the call of the gold. We're going to see a hobbit in action soon when this meeting happens. It's one of the chapters I'm proud of, and I'm anxious to get it out so you guys can enjoy it too. Please let me know what you thought of the chapter! Also, I'm on tumblr so look me up! ~ Laran


	41. Taking Care of Business...Hobbit Style!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. Mom died on Friday, the 24th, and I’ve been in a state of numb shock ever since. I will have “Shadows” posted on Wednesday with another chapter of this; I hope to have my brain in gear by that time. It’s been a rough time emotionally, and I’ve been scrambling to figure out what to do with myself.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

As the gates of Erebor rumbled open, Hawthorn found herself feeling both nervous and hopeful about the upcoming negotiations. She was well prepared for it and knew what needed to be done, but she was worried about failing Thorin.

After receiving the summons from their leader, the company had met in the sitting room and Thorin explained Hawthorn’s idea. Everyone agreed it was the best route even if they hated the idea of having to tie themselves to Mirkwood; the grumbling was at a minimum because they knew just how needed the alliance was to all three nations. The comment the king made about Hawthorn making Thranduil work for the items he desired cheered them up considerably.

Two lists were made within the first hour of the meeting. 

One was a list items that had been taken from the company during their captivity and, after hearing about the history of most of the belongings, Hawthorn vowed to herself to ensure these heirlooms were returned to her company. With as little as these dwarrow had, the belongings lost in Mirkwood had really hit her dwarrow hard.

The second list was a list of offers from Thorin to Bard, and all of them had worked on it together. All of the offers were incredibly generous, and she knew that the human would have to be insane not to take Thorin up on them.

The rest of the time between the company’s meeting and the negotiations was used to find the chest of gems and jewelry Thror had promised Thranduil as well as outfitting the small party who would be meeting with Bard and Thranduil.

Dori had found clothing for all of them, and he and his brothers worked swiftly to make alterations so the party would be neatly dressed. While they worked on that, Dwalin passed out the armor and weapons that had been taken from the treasury. He worked with Kili to get their armor buffed to a shine, not wanting Erebor to be represented by anyone other than at their best.

Thorin had presented a gift to Hawthorn, and she had been awed to recognize the shining metal of the shirt he had given her. Mithril was rare, and she valued the sentiment behind the gift. He was trying to protect her even when he could not be at her side.

After a fast bath, the hobbit slipped the mithril shirt on over her chemise and then donned the dark blue dress Dori had discovered in a chest. It had belonged to Dis, who had outgrown it, and it was perfect for what Hawthorn was about to do.

The gown was sapphire blue with silver runes embroidered on the hems, and it fit perfectly after Dori had worked his amazing skills on it. Being in the colors of the house she’d been adopted into and would marry the head of helped boost her confidence tremendously.

Thorin had redone her hair, and she was now ready to face Thranduil and Bard in negotiations. She had her sword belted at her waist, and the hobbit was glad for it since it provided peace of mind for her as well as her betrothed and father.

The party of five arrived at the tent Thranduil’s subordinates had erected for the meeting, and the two males were waiting outside with a few armed elves. The hobbit was relieved that Thorin had sent Kili and Dwalin as her own guards.

“Master Bard, it is good to see you again,” Hawthorn greeted with a smile. 

“As it is to see you, Miss Baggins,” the human answered with a bow. “I know of a young lady who has been asking if she’ll get to see you soon.”

“I hope to see her as well; how is her mother?”

“Still unwell,” Bard replied. “I am hopeful she’ll recover in time, but we will have to see.”

“That’s all well and good, but I thought we were meeting with a representative of the King Under the Mountain,” Thranduil commented. “I would have expected to meet with him instead of you.”

“The king has the utmost trust and respect for Miss Baggins,” Balin stated. “Bard, King Thranduil, I present to you the king’s ambassador for this meeting. Miss Hawthorn Baggins, daughter of Bungo and Oin, is representing King Thorin and the kingdom of Erebor at his request.”

“He sends a child instead of coming himself,” the elf scoffed. “I should have known he would be too much in love with his treasure to address the severity of this situation.”

“On the contrary, he sent the one person he knows will do the most good for all parties considered,” the adviser replied. “Miss Baggins is more than just a respected scholar, taught by Erestor, considered family by Lord Elrond, and a master in the Scrivener’s Guild in Erebor; she is also the betrothed of our king.”

Thranduil looked as if he’d bitten into a sour lemon, and that expression became worse when her ties to the Lord of Imladris was mentioned. Hawthorn smothered the urge to laugh when the king looked practically nauseous when her betrothal to Thorin was brought to light by Balin.

“I am grateful the king is open to negotiations,” Bard stated before the elf king could comment. “Shall we go inside and get started?”

“I am certainly willing,” she replied, reaching up to place a hand on his arm when he offered it to her.

Hawthorn was led to a chair, and she leaned her staff against the arm of it. She knew it would draw attention as well as back up the claim Balin had made in regards to her ties to Imladris and Lord Elrond.

“Before we begin, I will make further introductions,” the hobbit stated. “Lord Balin is here as he knows the current status of the mountain and can verify any claims I make on the king’s behalf. Lord Ori is here to take notes of the negotiations and will draw up the final documents for all parties to sign.”

“We have no scribe among our people so he is welcome,” Bard told her, taking a seat as well.

“I did not think to bring one,” Thranduil said, accepting a cup of wine from a servant.

Hawthorn said nothing as to his imbibing already and noticed a faint expression of frustration on the face of a younger elf standing behind the elven monarch’s right shoulder. This one would need watching throughout the meeting.

“As Lord Balin has stated, I am here on behalf of King Thorin II Oakenshield to take part in these negotiations in order to uphold oaths he made as well as reestablish friendships between the mountain and the kingdoms that lie around Erebor. His first concern, upon hearing of what the master of Laketown did, was to ensure you and your people are taken care of. In order to assist where he can, he sent me a list of offers he has for you.”

Bard ignored the scoffing noise from the elf, arching a brow at the flat look the hobbit gave Thranduil before smiling at her.

“I’d like to hear his offers,” he said.

“King Thorin is well aware of the dangers of being homeless with small children and women,” she began. “So he based a lot of this on the challenges he faced after Erebor fell. If something is missed, please let me know so I can inform him and ensure that you get the aid needed to help your people.”

The human noticed how the elf tensed at that comment but didn’t say anything; Bard was interested to see how this would play out since all she was doing was stating fact. Those facts, while tactfully spoken, seemed to needle Thranduil a great deal.

“I am grateful for his experience, Miss Baggins.”

She smiled at him, taking the parchment Ori had pulled out of a bag. The scribe had been taking notes but had paused to fetch the document the future queen would need.

“The primary concerns for a homeless people are shelter, food, water, protection, medicine, and funding,” she began, not reacting much when Thranduil interrupted.

“We have tents for them,” he said. “Shelter will be provided.”

“In tents,” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

“Of course,” he answered. “They are not exposed to the elements this way.”

Hawthorn looked at Balin, who nodded slightly, and continued.

“The goal of King Thorin is to meet these primary concerns before addressing other ones that cannot be touched upon until much later due to the lateness of the year.”

Kili passed her a goblet of water before taking his position behind her; he and Dwalin had taken that defensive position, and both knew she took comfort from their presence.

She took a sip of water, setting the goblet down carefully.

“The king extends his invitation for you and your people to pass the winter in Erebor,” Hawthorn told him, catching the two males by surprise.

“He’s going to allow us into the mountain,” Bard asked.

“He is,” she answered. “I am told winters can be harsh this far north, and he has no desire to leave your people in the cold where fuel is scarce and the elements can penetrate through most shelters. Granted, there will be restrictions placed due to the fact that Erebor has been occupied by Smaug until recently and most areas have not been inspected for safety yet.”

“Understandable,” the human stated, ignoring the slight choking sound from the elf.

“It’ll be close quarters for a while as well,” Hawthorn cautioned. “A few members of our company have been able to determine a few safe areas with working bathing facilities. Until aid from the Iron Hills arrives to assist in surveying more areas, it will be cramped but you will be kept safe within the protection of stone and kept warm.

“The sources of fresh water are clean and still available, and I am told they do not freeze in winter because of how the mountain is heated. With the dwarrow and your people wintering together, resources and supplies will be shared equally. Our healers will be available for those who are ill or hurt.”

“What will this cost them,” Thranduil asked, sneering. “Dwarves do nothing for free.”

“Nothing,” Hawthorn answered. “If those who are able bodied are willing to volunteer in regards to helping with what restoration work can be done this winter, we would be grateful for their aid but the offer for shelter and necessities do not hinge upon it. As I have said, the dwarrow of Durin’s Folk understand what it means to not have those vital necessities and have no wish to see Bard and his people go without.”

Her eyes did not leave his even as she gave slight emphasis on the proper plural form for the children of Mahal, and it was obvious he was not comfortable with the reference to how the refugees of Erebor had nothing for the longest time.

“In regards to funding, King Thorin will pay for the supplies and other resources needed for both people during the winter and early spring months. At this moment in time, the treasury is locked down for several reasons.”

Thranduil scoffed, shaking his head as he interrupted her.

“So he can keep his gold to himself, no doubt,” he said in an ugly tone of voice.

“The reasons for this action is due to safety,” she continued, giving him an unimpressed look for his poor manners. “The treasury will remain sealed until Mithrandir can inspect the room to ensure the dragon left no magical taint on the treasure. There are also safety concerns because of the fight that took place in there; the damage done as well as the stress of the combined weight of the dragon and treasure on the supports may have very well left the room unsafe for anyone to enter.

“Once Mithrandir has determined it to be safe from magical taint, King Thorin will have specialists inspect the room and flooring to ensure there will be no accidents. If it is deemed safe, there will be two teams to work in there. One, to remove the corpse of the dragon and two, to separate the treasure and compare it to the logs King Thror kept so that we can remove anything that belongs to Dale so it can be repaired, if needed, and then they will be returned to their rightful owners.

“After winter is finished, teams of dwarrow will work with our guests and help rebuild the city so your people can have homes they will be proud of. His Majesty will also set aside funding to be given to you at this time so you have what will be needed to pay for services that might have to come from outside sources.”

“This is incredibly generous of him,” Bard told her.

“He understands what it means to start over with nothing,” Hawthorn shared. “There are other plans he is working on at the moment and will explain to you during the winter, should you accept his invitation. Some of the plans depend on what my uncle has to say in regards to my request for supplies, seeds, and seedlings to help start the farms come spring.”

“Your uncle,” the elf asked.

“My uncle is Thain of the Shire; it’s a title that has been handed down for many generations since my people claimed the land,” she answered. “A Thain is very much like a king.”

“So you’re a princess,” the human queried, smiling at her when she gave a small huff.

“It might seem that way to some, but hobbits view things differently. In regards to the offers from the king, you have time to think it over but winter is fast approaching and he wishes to ensure your people are kept safe and warm through the cold months.”

“I need no time to think it over, Miss Baggins. I will accept King Thorin’s offer with full gratitude; this will keep my people safe until we have time to rebuild Dale and turn it into a home for all of us.”

“He will be pleased to hear it,” she said with a gentle smile. “As I said, it will be close quarters for a while.”

“Understandable and we’ll make do,” Bard reassured her. 

“King Thorin hopes to make use of the winter months to get to know his new neighbors and develop a new treaty between Erebor and Dale since the alliance was of great importance in the past,” Hawthorn said. “In the meantime, Erebor stands ready to receive her guests whenever they are ready to arrive.”

“We should be ready before sunset,” he told her.

“Do you have a number of those who will need medical attention? This way I can have our healer prepared to tend to them,” the lass asked.

“Five of our group are ill, including Astrid’s mother.”

“Oin will be ready to help when you arrive,” she assured him.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Bard said to the group. “I need to send word to be ready to move. Miss Baggins, thank you for meeting with me.”

“It was my pleasure, Master Bard,” she replied.

Once the man had left, the king’s eyes turned to the hobbit and he sneered for a long moment.

“What of what I am owed?”

“Balin, will you please excuse us and take the others with you? I need a few moments alone with the king,” she said. “I’ll call when I’m ready to resume negotiations.”

Balin didn’t like it, but he obeyed his future queen. He led his brother, Kili, and Ori out of the tent to give her some privacy. The adviser wasn’t certain what was going on and hoped it wasn’t going to be something bad.

Once they were gone, she turned blue eyes onto the elven king. 

“I would suggest excusing those with you,” she said with icy politeness.

“I will do as I please,” he replied mockingly.

“So I have heard,” she said, switching into Sindarin so as not to be heard by any dwarrow ears that might be close enough to hear. 

“You speak our language?”

“You did not listen to the adviser when he introduced me. I have spent a lot of time under Lord Elrond’s roof and learned from him, Erestor, and a few others. I claim him as heart-family, and my lord Elrond does the same in regards to me as my mother was very dear to him.

“Sindarin was not all I learned,” she said, speaking the language flawlessly. “It is interesting what one learns with the right maps and people to speak with.”

Thranduil poured more wine, watching her with icy eyes, and she continued, knowing she might very well crack that exterior.

“In fact, I learned that it takes a fair amount of time to reach Erebor from your palace,” Hawthorn began. “Add in the time it takes to muster the troops and ensure they are armed, it makes one wonder how it was you arrived when you did when Smaug invaded Erebor.”

The king jerked in surprise, nearly dropping his goblet, and she said nothing when the elf behind him spoke for the first time.

“Father?”

Thranduil said nothing, and Hawthorn spoke again.

“I believe you had intentions of waging war on Thror in order to take the jewelry he refused to give you, not caring about the people who would have been hurt by your actions,” she stated. “When you got there, you must have been relieved to see that the dragon had done more damage than you ever could have. Instead of allowing compassion to rule your heart, you allowed your lust for revenge and trinkets to rule you. You left innocent people to die because of your refusal to lend them aid.”

“I was not there to fight a dragon!”

“No, you weren’t. You were there because you were nearly as gold mad as Thror, and you didn’t think about the innocent women and children who could have been hurt during that siege or the repercussions it would have had on Dale. Nor did you stop to think that there would be people hurt by the dragon and had no supplies or knowledge needed to treat the injuries caused by Smaug.

“All you cared about were trinkets, and I think that madness has not left you. The dragon did not leave Erebor to harm Laketown or even your woods, and there was no reason for you to leave your palace to march on our home. I think you came, once again, for mathoms.”

Thranduil was furious and reached for his sword, but he was stopped by a staff coming down hard on his arm. 

“No,” she said flatly. “I sent my family out to speak with you because I don’t want them coming to the same conclusion I did while researching things in Imladris. They don’t need another reason to hate you and your people, Thranduil. Draw that blade on me, and you will have Imladris furious with you as well as the Longbeard clan. That is not something you would weather well, I believe.”

“What do you want,” he hissed, sounding angry.

“I want an ironclad treaty between Mirkwood and Erebor,” Hawthorn told him. “I am willing to wipe the slate clean but only after you do one thing.”

Thranduil shook in fury, and it was his son who spoke up.

“What is it the elves of the Greenwood can do, Miss Baggins?”

“I have a list of items taken from my family when they were wrongfully imprisoned in your palace,” Hawthorn told him. “Most of them were family heirlooms and hold sentimental value to their owners. You are not only holding items of clothing and jewelry but weapons and armor; this list does include Orcrist.”

Legolas frowned, and the elf king shook his head.

“That belongs to the elves; a dwarf should never have had it, and I still want to know where he stole it from.”

“It was found in a troll hoard after we left the Shire,” she replied. “Orcrist and Glamdring were both found there, along with the blade I carry. Lord Elrond identified the blades and gifted Glamdring to Mithrandir and Orcrist to Thorin. He told me as such when he checked on me in the halls of healing later, gifting my blade to me as well. So no, Orcrist was not stolen and I will write Lord Elrond if I have to in order to prove I speak the truth.

“Once everything is returned and we verify that nothing is missing, you will be given the gems and jewelry Thror should have given you. That will clean the slate, and a new treaty can be formed between Mirkwood and Erebor.”

“How do I know you speak the truth,” he asked.

Hawthorn set a single starlight gem onto the table, and both elves drew in a breath when they saw it. She had to admit, it was pretty but not worth waging war over.

“That is our symbol of good faith,” the hobbit told the pair.

“Here is ours,” Legolas answered, unbuckling his belt and handing Orcrist to the hobbit. “You shall have your belongings sometime tomorrow, Miss Baggins.”

“When you do, the gems and trinkets will be ready for you,” she said. “From there, a treaty will be formed and ambassadors chosen to keep our kings from having to interact too much. I doubt there will ever be a friendship between them, but it is my hope that this alliance can once again become a friendship between the Children of Mahal and the First Born.”

“Agreed,” Legolas stated. “Call your people in, and we’ll get the list from you. I had no idea what my father had done when Erebor fell; I was not home at the time or I would have tried to aid those injured.”

“That was all Thorin wanted,” she told him. “His mother was badly burned by Smaug when she saved a child from him, and she died due to complications from it. Something that wouldn’t have happened had help been given.

“Thror might have wanted the army to help reclaim the mountain, but all Thorin cared about was ensuring his people were taken care of.”

The younger elf looked troubled, and he cast a glance to his father. He finally saw what the hobbit had pointed out, and Legolas wondered when his father had fallen into the gold madness.

“There is help out there,” she said softly to him. “Ask for Lord Elrond’s aid, and he may be able to help Thranduil with the madness.”

“I believe I shall do so,” he answered, just as quietly. “Thank you for sending your people out as you have.”

“As a future queen, I have learned it’s best to approach royalty in privacy when they’ve done something wrong. I may not like your father and despise what he did, but I do respect his title.”

The young elf smiled, nodding his head.

“Call your people, Miss Baggins. Your family will have their belongings returned, and a treaty will be written out so that there will be no more reasons for distrust.”

Hawthorn returned the smile, picking up Orcrist and setting it with her staff as she called out for Balin and the others. This had gone better than expected, and she hoped that Thorin would be pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Notes – I hope everyone like this; I was so eager to share this chapter with you because it’s something I’d have loved to say to the character myself once I figured out where his palace was in relation to Erebor. There is simply no way he could have gotten that many troops together and traversed the forest by the time they arrived when they did. I talked to Mom about this, showed her what I had found, and she agreed with the conclusion I had drawn. Thranduil was there to wage war against Erebor, not help against Smaug. Please let me know what you thought of the chapter! ~ Laran


	42. Meeting and Arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note – I can’t say how much I value your patience while I deal with grieving the loss of my mother. Writing is still sporadic as my depression is really killing my muses, but I’m trying because writing is a healthy emotional outlet for me. The stress and depression is getting to me. Finances are a huge concern because I’m unable to work, and Mom was the source of income for us after she took me in. I’ve been battling to get disability and have been waiting for months regarding the appeal being seen. I was told recently it could be as late as November before I hear anything. I qualified for foodstamps, but I live in a county where there is literally no help for housing. The charity who helped me in April can’t help with rent for May or June. I haven’t been able to find help for May’s rent, and I am overdue for my internet payment too. I’m trying to hold on and believe that I’ll get the disability answer I need, but I don’t know what I’m going to do to keep a roof over my head. My family can’t or won’t help, and I can’t leave the county because I’m on special programs to help with medical. Please keep me in your thoughts and prayers because I am so terrified and stressed right now. Someone suggested I set up a gofund me and post the link. https://www.gofundme.com/2g757-help-with-bills-and-rent
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make money from this story.

Hawthorn felt rather pleased with herself as she made her way to the King’s Halls, and the dwarrow who had accompanied her seemed rather pleased as well. She knew they were curious about what the private conversation had been given how rattled Thranduil had seemed during the discussion that had taken place once everyone had been called back into the tent, but they said nothing about it. She was grateful for that since she had no wish to add more fuel to the fire in regards to the issues between her family and the elves of Mirkwood.

She entered her family’s suite, finding the rest of the company waiting for them, and the hobbit gave a small grin at Thorin.

“How did it go?”

“I believe it went well,” she replied. “Bard is gathering his people and should be here between now and sunset. Calon-Tad, they have people ill with them and will need your help. He’s getting a headcount of those who need your aid.”

“I’ll be ready for them,” the healer promised, pleased she had asked for an amount of those who would need his help.

“And Thranduil,” Thorin asked.

“I don’t know what the lass told him after she insisted on a private discussion, but he was rather shaken when we returned to the tent. His son did most of the negotiating in his stead; our belongings will be returned to us and when they are, the gems will be handed off to the prince. In addition to that, the elves will aid us in supplying for the coming winter and have agreed to meet at a later date for a formal treaty that will include trade, aid, and military support,” Balin told him.

“You’re certain he won’t betray us,” Gloin asked, blinking when something was passed to Hawthorn.

The hobbit moved to stand in front of Thorin, passing him a familiar looking sheathed blade.

“Prince Legolas accepted our token of good faith and in return, he entrusted Orcrist to me to be returned to you as a sign of good faith from his people,” she said. “I have a feeling he will be handling negotiations for a while.”

Thorin drew the blade from its sheath, feeling relieved that he had the sword restored to him. He smiled up at Hawthorn, who relaxed when she saw the approval on his face.

“You did very well, ukradel, and I thank you for it.”

“You’re most welcome,” she told him. “I think asking for the prince to work as ambassador for the treaty negotiations would be wise. Thranduil will most likely not wish to see me for some time, and I don’t see him being able to be polite enough in the presence of dwarrow while creating the treaty.”

“One of these days you must tell me what it was that you used against him,” the king said to his betrothed, sheathing the sword and leaning it against his seat.

“Perhaps,” Hawthorn said softly. “Right now isn’t the time.”

Thorin accepted her answer, and the conversation went on about news regarding the preparations for the new arrivals as well as the latest reports from Dain and Dis. The advice Lord Elrond had given them about hiring some of the Dúnedain for escorts had been taken, and the princess had reported that they would be ready to move as soon as the winter weather broke and the mountains were able to be traveled.

The hobbit was heartened to see the company cheer up even further at that news since the princess would be coming with all of the dwarrow of Durin’s Folk and a few of the Broadbeam dwarrow who had treated them so kindly when Thorin’s people needed aid. She knew they missed their families a great deal, and she hoped winter would not linger in Eriador so her friends could be reunited with their loved ones quickly.

“My sister also sent a message for you,” Thorin said, handing her a sealed roll of parchment. “The poor raven was weighed down with a letter for me and message for you and the lads.”

Hawthorn took the roll, looking up at everyone.

“Would you mind if I read this,” she asked, not wanting to be rude.

Once the others assured her they wouldn’t mind, the hobbit broke open the seal and settled herself on a chair so she could read in comfort.

~Dear Miss Baggins,

I regret that a letter must be the first form of communication between us, but I find that I could not abide the thought of waiting until winter passes before I could finally speak with you.

My sons have written of you several times, always with the greatest respect and admiration. For all their silly antics, I trust their instincts in regards to reading people. Their impressions of you as well as the words of my brother, who is slow to trust, has shown you to be a kind, compassionate, and brave lady. Your courageous actions in protecting my family have only affirmed their thoughts of you to be truth in my mind.

You have kept my family alive to make it to Erebor in one piece, and I am more grateful to you for that than you will ever now. My gratitude has only grown due to the knowledge that my brother, who I feared would spend his life alone, is happier than I have ever known him to be.

You will be pleased to know that I have been in contact with your uncle; he has sent supplies to help keep us in good health throughout the winter and has promised to have food supplies, seeds, saplings, as well as everything we will need to know to start new farms from scratch. Apparently, he spoke to the best farmers and gardeners in the Shire about the situation in the areas Smaug desolated and they are writing everything they know in regards to how to bring life back to an area that has not seen life in over a century.

Your uncle is a generous man, which is something I say rarely about people, as his requirements for payment is something we can easily meet. He asked that I pass on a message to you and tell you that he is very pleased you have found your cariad. He said that he will pray to the Green Lady that you will spend your life with him in happiness and seemed pleased when I told him that your One was my brother. We have been passing messages over the last few months sharing stories about you and Thorin. 

I must close this missive now, and I ask that you continue to keep my foolish family safe from their own actions and stubbornness. I also ask that you keep yourself safe for I very much desire to enter my old home and meet the woman I will one day call sister.

Thank you once again for your actions and for making my idiot brother so happy.

Dis Axedancer  
Daughter of Thrain  
Princess Under the Mountain~

Hawthorn set the letter onto her lap, blinking for a moment to control her emotions. She’d heard a lot of things about her future sister-in-law, and it seemed that the dwarrowdam was just as intelligent and formidable as the company had made her out to be. However, the hobbit could tell that Dis loved her family and it really touched Hawthorn to know that the dwarrowdam wanted to meet her. 

“Everything all right?”

The question drew her from her thoughts, and she looked up to spy the entire company watching her with expressions of concern and dread on their faces.

“Everything is just fine,” she told them. “Princess Dis was very kind in her letter and shared some news. My uncle will be aiding Ered Luin, and everything needed to rebuild the farms will be sent when the dwarrow in the Blue Mountains leave to come home.”

“That’s good news,” Fili said with a sigh. “Even mild winters can be cause for concern when it comes to making sure we have enough food. Mountain areas aren’t the best for growing crops, and dwarrow are not made to be farmers. A few have found a knack for it, but there’s not enough of those to really keep our people fed properly in winter.”

“The hobbits grow more than enough to share with your people and not have to put themselves on rationing to make it through the cold months,” the hobbit pointed out. “I’m just pleased that something could be done to help.”

“You’ve made it a great deal easier for my sister,” Thorin agreed. “I am grateful you made the suggestion to your uncle because not having to worry about food this winter will make it easier for Dis to focus on the preparations for moving once spring arrives.”

“I am happy to have been able to help,” she said softly.

The discussion changed, going into various topics that revolved around the restoration of the mountain and what needed to be done for the humans, themselves, and the dwarrow Dain was bringing with him. She looked up when Ori came in with an announcement.

“Bard and his people are here,” he said.

Thorin rose, attaching Orcrist’s sheath to his belt. It was obvious to Hawthorn that her betrothed was a lot more comfortable now that he had the elvish blade at his side once more.

The group headed to the gate, and Dori, Bofur, Bifur, and Nori pulled the mechanism to open the massive doors. Outside was a group of humans with Bard in the front.

The king took a few steps forward, smiling at them as he spoke.

“Welcome, friends, to Erebor,” he called to the group. “We have a place for you to sleep with bathing facilities attached. I’m afraid it will be close quarters until we can inspect more of the mountain to ensure each area is safe, but we will at least be warm and fed during the winter months.”

The crowd of humans cheered, happy with the news of having shelter for their children and themselves. Bard had explained to them that the dwarrow would be willing to have their aid with helping restore the mountain, and all of them had thought it was a good way to not only keep themselves busy during the winter months but a great way to help the ones who had aided them in their time of need.

Before Bard could reply to Thorin’s welcome, a child’s voice broke through the noise.

“Miss Queen Hawthorn!”

Astrid broke through the crowd, rushing to the hobbit. Hawthorn beamed, recognizing the child immediately, and she pulled the little girl into a warm hug.

“Oh it’s good to see you,” the lass told the child. “Have you been a good girl for your mama?”

“Uh huh,” Astrid told her, beaming at her. “I helped Mister Bard pack so we could come here. Mama’s still stick though.”

“My heart-father is going to help her,” Hawthorn said, gently rubbing the child’s cheek. “Hopefully, she’ll get better soon.”

“I hope so,” the little girl said. “I don’t like it when Mama is sick.”

“I know, sweetie, and my heart-father will do his best,” she assured her, hugging her once again.

Thorin and the others watched this take place with fond smiles on their faces. Seeing the future queen of Erebor interacting with the young one put hope in the hearts of dwarrow and men alike. She was proving herself to not only be intelligent and cunning but also kind, compassionate, and loving to those around her. Watching her helped them believe that the future was going to be bright, even with the hard work ahead of them.

“We thank you for your generosity, King Thorin,” Bard stated once the child had quieted down, content to be beside the hobbit. “We have all agreed to help with the restoration of Erebor as much as we can as we wish for our neighbors to have a home they can be proud of.”

“My people will do the same for Dale when spring arrives,” the king assured him. “I received a letter from my sister today, and she informed me the planning for the return of our people to Erebor is going smoothly. We shall have their help with rebuilding your new home once they arrive and even though we are few in number, we will do all we can to ensure your people have a place to love and call home.”

“He’s a nice dwarf king,” Astrid whispered to Hawthorn.

“Yes, he is,” she murmured back, walking with her as the company escorted the humans deeper into the mountain. “He knows what it’s like to not have a home, and he never wants to see anyone have to go through what he and his people went through.”

“It’s scary,” the little girl admitted.

“Yes, it is and it’s something to remember,” the hobbit cautioned her.

“Why, Miss Queen Hawthorn?”

“I’m not queen yet, sweetheart, so just call me Hawthorn,” the lass said with a smile. “It’s important to remember in case someone comes into your life who has lost their home. If you remember how scary it was to lose yours, then you’ll be willing to help that person as much as you can.”

“Mama said that helping people and being nice to others is really important,” Astrid shared.

“Your mother is a smart woman,” Hawthorn told her. “It’s always important to help every human, hobbit, dwarf, or elf that crosses your path. Not every person is a good person but an act of kindness may be the one thing to turn a bad situation into a good one.”

“You’re smart too, Miss Queen Hawthorn.”

The hobbit laughed quietly, smiling at the little girl. 

“You’re not going to stop calling me that, are you?”

“No ma’am,” Astrid told her. “You saved me and Mama like a queen or princess in one of the stories she tells me, and it’s who you are.”

Hawthorn kissed her forehead, then brushed a lock of hair out of the child’s eyes.

“Then, Miss Astrid, you may call me that but you are the only one who can. When I marry King Thorin, everyone will call me Queen Hawthorn but you, sweetheart, are the only one who can call me Miss Queen Hawthorn.”

Astrid grinned, then hugged her before hurrying to follow her mama into one of the rooms cleared for the humans. Once alone, the hobbit smile and laughed, touched by the child’s fondness for her.

“Your loyal subject abandon you, Miss Queen Hawthorn,” Fili asked, making her turn to give her two future nephews a glare.

“That is for Miss Astrid to use, thank you,” she told him, shaking her finger at him. “Miss Hawthorn or Hawthorn will be enough for you.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Kili drawled. “Auntie has a nice ring to it.”

It was obvious the pair were trying to embarrass and fluster her, but she smirked a moment before her free hand went to her hip.

“Well, if I’m auntie then that means I have the right to scold you just as your mother or uncle would,” Hawthorn told them.

The two brothers squeaked and paled, realizing she was telling the truth, and both hobbit and company laughed at their reactions.

“It is rather precious to see her interact with you,” Thorin commented, leading the company back to the King’s Halls. 

“She’s a sweet child,” Hawthorn answered. “I find myself becoming rather fond of her; I will hate to see her move to Dale when it’s ready for habitation.”

“Actually, there might be a job available for the lass once her mother deems her old enough,” Balin shared. “You will have ladies-in-waiting but will need a handmaiden for running simple errands and staying near you in case you need something. We can ensure she gets a good education and even training for a position as an adult should she wish for something else.”

“Would the dwarrow accept a human child in such a position,” she asked, hopeful in keeping the child and her mother close at hand if possible.

“They will since children are important, and a child willing to learn in order to train for her future is something everyone will want to see succeed,” the adviser stated. “You’ve a good rapport with her, and that’s an important start.”

“Maybe you and I can talk to her mother about this once she and Astrid have a chance to settle in and Nessa feels better,” Hawthorn suggested.

“I am ever at your service,” Balin smiled.

“Another decision about your part of the household made,” Thorin told her. “How do you feel about it so far?”

“I’m still nervous, but I’m hopeful that I’ll learn quickly enough to be what you and your people need as queen,” the hobbit said. “I’m pleased there may be a way I can see Astrid more often. She brings sunshine into a room, and that’s needed right now.”

“It’s a trait I think she won’t lose since her rescuer is a bright ray of sunshine herself,” he said, kissing her softly. “Erebor needs as much sunshine as it can get.”

Hawthorn simply blushed, touched by her betrothed’s words and knew she would do her best to continue providing as much aid and sunlight as she possibly could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note - Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think of the chapter. Again, please keep me in your thoughts and prayers. I seriously need a miracle right now; I don’t understand how the government can justify making people in need wait this long for decisions. See you guys next time ~ Laran


	43. Unexpected and Expected Arrivals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note - I have to thank everyone for their kind uplifting words in regards to my situation. I also want to say “THANK YOU” for those who asked after and received my gofundme and paypal information. Things are still tight, but you guys have kept a roof over my head – especially my fairy godmother in training. All of you have been so important in keeping my strength going after the loss I’ve taken this year. You have no idea just how much your encouraging words in the messages have meant to me. Some people think that kindness has become a thing of the past, and I have proof that they are so very wrong!
> 
> Here’s the next chapter; I hope all of you enjoy reading it! Thanks for your patience.
> 
> Disclaimer - I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

The next few days were busy with dwarrow and humans getting everyone comfortable and starting small explorations to determine the safety of the areas being investigated. Hawthorn was pleased to see everyone getting along, and she spent time with Astrid and the other children in hopes of giving them some form of structure since a good portion of the adults were busy with work.

She and Ori had decided to give the little ones lessons for the morning hours of each day, knowing that education would be important for them. Hawthorn divided them up into two groups – those who could read and those who could not. Those who could would sit with Ori to work on their sums while the hobbit instructed the ones who couldn’t read on their alphabet and how to read small words.

Thorin and Bard were both enthusiastic about the little school because it was helpful in preparing the children for later in life as well as keeping them busy. This allowed the adults to work the various tasks they had been assigned for the day without having to worry about keeping the little ones out from underfoot.

In fact, when the dwarf king heard of their idea, he sent Bofur and Bifur with Gloin and Nori to find one of the schoolrooms that had been set up for the dwarrow children years ago. The group came back with enough slates and chalk for the children to use as well as two chalkboards for the teachers. A room beside the sleeping quarters for the humans had swiftly been prepared as a schoolroom and although it was fairly plain and bare, Ori and Hawthorn were enthusiastic about it.

Both would teach history together with Ori focusing on the area of Rhovanion around Erebor and Dale, and Hawthorn shared the history about the elves, men, and hobbits in other areas of Rhovanion and Eriador. It worked out well that way since Ori wasn’t as familiar with what she knew and was eager to learn; she was the same regarding the history of her new home.

Once school was let out for the day, both scribes would be put to work in making lists and official documents to be sent to other kingdoms in hopes of rebuilding trade and alliances that would help both the mountain and Dale grow. She and Ori had also been sent to begin work in the library once it had been determined to be safe, and they would spend time sorting through documents in search of old trade agreements as well as any maps or plans that would help the company keep track of areas that had needed to be worked on next.

Ori was using the time there to teach Hawthorn how to read and write their runes as well as instructing her in Khuzdul; he’d gotten permission from Thorin, who had complimented the scribe on remembering their future queen needed to be able to understand her subjects completely.

It was busy and tiring, but everyone seemed to thrive on it. The schedule was only broken a handful of times, and Hawthorn was needed for several of them.

The first had been the arrival of Prince Legolas with several crates that contained the belongings of the company that had been confiscated. Once it was determined everything was there, the dwarrow handed over the chest that contained the star gems and jewelry that had been crafted with them.

Upon hearing Thorin asking if Legolas would mind representing his father when the time came for the treaty to be negotiated, the prince bowed and agreed, asking if Hawthorn would represent Erebor. The monarch pointed out that she would require an adviser until she learned enough about her new home to represent her people well, and the elf had been remarkably understanding. If this particular elf remained as willing to work on this treaty as he was now, the dwarf king might not mind working with him in the future.

Legolas had not come with just the company’s belongings; he had brought supplies of food, medicines, bedding, and other necessities that would make getting through the winter a lot more comfortable. He never asked for any repayment and refused to accept any when Thorin tried to insist, stating that this was his way of ensuring the refugees and dwarrow would have what was needed.

As he left, the elf stated they might be seeing Gandalf soon as he’d been spotted near the border between Mirkwood and Dol Guldur not long ago with a few others. The news of where their wizard friend had been did not sit well in the hearts of the company, and they discussed it during times together and hoped that Gandalf was all right. 

After Legolas’s departure, there was no further news of their friend and all of them were concerned about it. They had hoped to see the wizard by now, and the worries only added to the burden of concerns when it came to the feeding and care of those within the mountain. The worries became worse when Oin announced to the company that Nessa, Astrid’s mother, had passed in the night. Apparently, the illness was one that had defied even Legolas’s attempts at healing.

When he’d heard the news, Thorin immediately went to the rooms where the humans were living and drew Bard aside, discussing what needed to be done in order to see that the woman was laid to rest according to the traditions of their people. They also talked about young Astrid, and the leader of the people agreed that Hawthorn may be able to help the child as the little one began training to be the Queen’s Handmaiden.

Once the decision was made, Astrid was called in and they explained things to her, offering her a choice of what she wanted to do. Bard assured her that he and his family would see her as often as possible, and the child made the decision to serve as Hawthorn’s handmaiden. The answer didn’t come as a surprise to either male as they knew just how dedicated the child was to the hobbit.

“Are you certain, Astrid,” Thorin asked her, wanting to make sure the lass knew what she wanted.

“I’m sure, King Thorin,” she answered, rubbing at an eye to keep the tears away. “Miss Queen Hawthorn needs me, and I know she’ll be nice to me. I have to learn a trade someday, Mama said, and this is a good start.”

“Very true,” the dwarf said. “Go gather your things, and we’ll head to the Royal Halls.”

The little girl headed to obey him and once alone, Thorin turned to Bard. 

“I think I would like to send her to stay with you so many days of the month so she has time to be around her own kind and keep the connections she’s made so far,” he told the new King of Dale.

“It’s a good idea,” Bard replied. “Tilda enjoys her company, and I know she’d miss her if she didn’t get to see her.”

“Knowing Hawthorn as I do, I’m certain your daughter will have an open invitation to come and spend time with Astrid,” Thorin chuckled. 

“Of that, I have no doubt,” the human said, chuckling as well. “I’m not sure who has the other wrapped around their fingers more – Astrid or Hawthorn.”

“That’s a question we’ll never have an answer for,” the king replied, smiling when the child return with a small pack. “Ready to go?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, taking his hand when he offered it.

“Good,” Thorin said, heading out of the area where the humans were living. “We’re going to speak with Balin first; he’s my chief adviser and head of the Scrivener’s Guild. He’s going to help teach you when your school is done in the mornings. You’ll learn things about how to act when Hawthorn is doing her duties as my queen, how to help her when she needs it. It’s a lot to learn.”

“I can do it,” she said to him. “I’m smart.”

“Yes, you are,” he smiled. “She’s going to rely on you a lot, Astrid, and it’s an important position. You’ll be working with her ladies-in-waiting as well.”

“What are those?”

“Those are women who Hawthorn trusts to work with her,” he answered. “You’ll be helping out as well, doing little things for her to make life easier.”

“This way she has time to help others like she did me,” Astrid asked.

“Exactly that,” he told her, heading down a few hallways. 

Thorin answered her questions honestly, telling her a bit about what her duties would be, and he soon found his adviser in the room that had been chosen for his office.

“Balin, I have a student for you,” he called.

The white haired dwarf looked up, recognizing the child immediately, and he gave a small bow as he smiled at her.

“Miss Astrid, it does my heart good to see you,” he said. “You’re going to be learning from me?”

“I’m going to be Miss Queen Hawthorn’s handmaiden,” the little girl told him. “King Thorin offered it to me today since Mama went to Mandos’s Halls.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Miss Astrid, and I will do everything I can to make you the best handmaiden in the history of the Longbeards,” Balin promised. “Come and sit down; we’ll have a chat and see if there’s any questions I can answer before your studies and training begin.”

As the child took a seat, leaving her bag beside her chair, there was a knock on the door. Thorin opened it to find Fili, who spoke before he could ask what was going on. His sister-son looked a little frazzled, which concerned the king.

“Some elves have arrived, Thorin, and they won’t speak to anyone but you,” the blond prince told his uncle. “Two of them have a crest I recognize, but the third bears one I swear I’ve seen but can’t place.”

“What is the crest you recognize?”

“Rivendell,” Fili said, falling in step beside his uncle as they headed to their guests. “I think they’re twins because they’re eerily alike.”

“Those would be Lord Elrond’s sons,” he quietly shared as they headed to the room where the three elves were waiting. “I’m told they are very close to Hawthorn and view her as a sister. I’m not certain what would bring them here at this point in time unless it’s to check up on her.”

“That’s just it though; they asked for you, not her,” his heir commented, making Thorin feel a mixture of dread, worry, and curiosity.

He didn’t say anything in response, simply opening the door to the room that doubled as a meeting room for the company. It was in the King’s Hall, which was a known safe area, and Bombur and Bifur had cleaned it up a day ago for the use of the company as they were going to be on Thorin’s council.

When he stepped in, Thorin found himself the target of two pairs of gray eyes and one pair of silver-touched blue eyes. He nodded, giving a small smile to his guests.

“King Thorin,” the owner of the unusual blue eyes spoke. “Please forgive our unscheduled arrival, but we were sent ahead by Lord Elrond. These are his sons – Elrohir and Elladan.”

The twins bowed when their names were spoken, and the dwarven king had a feeling he’d be mixing them up for a while until he could find a way to identify one from the other. He gave a nod in return to the bow.

“You are both welcome to Erebor, my lords.”

“Thank you, King Thorin,” one of the twins answered. “I have the honor of introducing Lord Glorfindel.”

Thorin’s spine straightened at the introduction of the ancient elf. He knew the story of the Balrog Slayer very well; it was a story he’d always found himself rereading when he was younger, and he respected the elf for his deeds.

“Welcome to Erebor, Lord Glorfindel.”

“Thank you, King Thorin. I offer my congratulations to you for reclaiming your rightful home,” the blond elf replied.

“Thank you, my lord. Please, sit down,” the king offered, gesturing to the round table that had been discovered, cleaned, and moved into the meeting room yesterday. “I must apologize for the state of things; we have a long way to go in regards to renovating the mountain.”

“It’s to be expected, my king,” the other twin answered. “Elrohir and I knew that things would be in disrepair, but there was no time to wait for things to be ready for visitors.”

Thorin frowned, sitting down when the others did.

“I assume this is an urgent matter then?”

“I’m afraid so,” Glorfindel answered. “My lord Elrond went with the White Council to see to putting an end to the darkness caused by the Necromancer. They arrived to find Mithrandir gravely injured and managed to banish the fiend from Dol Guldur.”

Concern crossed the king’s face when he heard the news; Gandalf was a friend, and he disliked hearing the news the wizard had been harmed.

“Is he all right?”

“He will be,” Elrohir answered. “He, my father, and our grandmother are recovering and will be joining us soon. We were sent ahead with a warning; there is an army marching on Erebor.”

Thorin straightened, leaning forward. This was news he hadn’t expected, and his mind was running quickly with plans and thoughts.

“Army?”

“Led by a pale orc,” Glorfindel replied. 

“Impossible,” he answered. “Hawthorn put a dagger into Azog’s skull; he could not have survived that.”

“He didn’t,” Elladan assured him. “This is the spawn of that Eru-cursed orc. Apparently, he is as big as his sire and just as nasty.”

“Mahal, is my line ever to be free of being hunted,” he growled, looking both angry and worried. “How big an army is coming?”

The answer made Thorin pale, knowing he had no way of driving away a horde of that size. 

“My cousin Dain is arriving soon with troops and supplies, but we could not successfully face an army of that size with the reinforcements he is bringing.”

“You will have help,” Elrohir replied. “Our father and grandmother have convinced Thranduil to muster his fighters. Imladris is too far away to send for aid, but our grandfather dispatched troops when the news of the orc army reached him. They will be here shortly before the orcs will.”

“I have refugees from Laketown in my halls,” Thorin said. “Some of them might be willing to lend their swords to our aid. I sincerely doubt the Master will do anything except drop the bridge to keep his town safe from attack.”

“He’s already done so,” Glorfindel said, sounding disgusted. “A messenger bird was sent to warn him, and we were going to stop by to see if any would volunteer to fight. We found the bridge had been destroyed with no way of reaching the town from the shore.”

“I wish I could say I’m surprised, but that would be a lie,” the king replied, shaking his head. “This is going to be a difficult battle.”

“Mithrandir is calling in allies as well,” the blond assured him. “We have a few days to draw up battle plans.”

“We’ll need it,” Thorin sighed. “I hope Gandalf gets here soon; I don’t trust the treasury due to the dragon, and most of the armory found its way into the gold heap. The men don’t have decent weapons or armor, and I need to change that if some of them are willing to fight alongside us.”

“If all goes well, he should be here by tomorrow,” Elladan said. “Our father was fairly hopeful that he, Grandmother, and Mithrandir should be here by midday. Thranduil will need more time to muster his troops.”

The king rubbed a hand over his face, callouses brushing against his beard. His mind was racing, and he knew he would need to summon the company and Bard to try to come up with plans for this battle. 

“I appreciate you coming to deliver this news,” he said, finally forcing his mind to calm so he could focus on his guests once more.

“We had reason to want to come to Erebor,” Glorfindel admitted. “Are you aware of our relationship with Hawthorn?”

“She is family of the heart to you,” Thorin replied, having a feeling he knew why the trio had wanted to come. “She’s spoken of the members of her heart family often and with a great deal of love.”

“She is our sister, though her self esteem issues give her trouble in accepting it,” Elrohir told him. “We were both overjoyed and upset when we heard she had found her cariad. As much as we want her to be happy, we need to know that she will be loved, respected, and protected as she so richly deserves.”

“Our sister has had too much heartbreak in her life, and we want to see her smiling and singing once more,” Elladan finished.

“In this, gentlemen, we are in agreement,” the dwarf told them. “She is my One, and I value her heart as a treasure greater than any riches all of the dwarrow kingdoms could unearth. I seek to make her happy and help her find her inner strength.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Glorfindel said, eyes taking on a deadly gleam as he met the ones of the dwarf. “While she is their sister, I love her as if she was my own child and am blessed that she loves me as a member of her heart family. If she is hurt due to your actions, King under the Mountain, I will pull Erebor down to make you suffer in return. I have fought against the darkest of beings, and I do not fear a dwarf king.”

A chill ran down Thorin’s spine at the words, and he knew the ancient elf would keep his promise. Truth was, he would welcome the punishment if he ever did something to hurt his One.

“She is my heart and soul,” he answered, meeting his eyes. “I will do anything to keep her from harm and love her as she deserves. Her family is welcome here in Erebor anytime as seeing you and the others she loves as her heart family will only bring her more joy.”

The three of them stared at him for a long moment before Glorfindel nodded. 

“Accepted,” he said. “Now, we should make plans for what is coming.”

Thorin nodded, getting up to send for his company and Bard. There was work to be done and people that needed to be kept safe. By Mahal, he would see it done!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note - I don’t think I’d want to have the legendary Balrog Slayer angry with me either! Glorfindel sneaked into this chapter, and I loved him too much to try to edit him out so he stayed. I hope all of you enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know what you thought. See everyone next time! ~ Laran


	44. Introductions and Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – I want to thank everyone for their kind words and actions; things are still very tough, but I am happy in that my brother is making more of an effort to spend time with me since he is the only blood relative I have that I still speak with. I’m getting to know his new wife, who is a beautiful soul, so that’s good. Health wise, fibro is being worse than usual. We’ve had a lot of rain and thunderstorms, and that really throws my pain levels higher than usual. Also, check out my new one shot, "Dawns y Galon." It's a Bagginshield story, and I'm pleased with it.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make money from this story.

The time between the announcement regarding the approaching orc army and when the horde arrived was spent welcoming allies, making battle plans, and trying to secure the mountain against enemy attacks. It was, without a doubt, the busiest time most of the company could remember.

Thranduil, Gandalf, Galadriel, an elf named Haldir, Glorfindel, and Elrond met with Thorin, Bard, and the company, and the group reviewed several maps that Hawthorn and Ori had found in the library. Debates had gone on about the best areas for various groups, and it was decided that divisions of archers would take cover in various battlements and the other divisions would be stationed in certain key areas outside the mountain so they would have the best spots for thinning out the orc army from as many directions as possible. Kili was given command of the archers in Erebor while Legolas was in charge of those outside the mountain. The two pulled away from the planning to continue discussing possible positions and different strategies so as to aid the ground troops.

Hawthorn had taken advantage of a lull in the planning to pull Glorfindel, Legolas, and the twins aside to a private area. They could see the worry on her face and hoped they could ease her fears.

“What is it, little sister,” Elladan asked.

“I am very much aware of who is leading the army against us,” she told them, sounding worried and determined. “I have a favor to ask of all of you, and I know that I will displease my family by asking this. I have no choice because I want them as safe as possible.”

“You want us to keep Bolg away from king and his nephews,” Glorfindel observed, seeing the fear on her face grow when she heard his words.

“That foul creature holds the same lust to spill the blood of Durin as Azog did,” the hobbit said to them. “I cannot allow my family to fall to him; there’s been enough deaths at the hands of the orcs, and I will not see any more members of the Line of Durin fall if I can prevent it.”

“It means the entire company will have to be protected,” Elrohir observed, remembering that a good portion of the dwarrow who had accompanied Hawthorn were members of that particular bloodline. “I know three of them are not of the same clan, but they mean a great deal to you as well. It can be done; we will have to speak to the armies under our command or our family’s command, but your dwarrow family will be protected.”

“I will do the same with our army as well,” Legolas promised.

Hawthorn sighed, body slumping in relief. She was quickly embraced by Glorfindel and the twins, and she relaxed even further when she heard the murmured reassurances in Sindarin. The hobbit was grateful her elvish family was here and hoped and prayed that she would not lose any loved ones in this fight. She had faith in her heart-kin and would trust that they and the Valar would keep her beloved family safe in the upcoming battle.

“Hawthorn?”

She turned when she heard her name called, spying Fili standing by the door. Hawthorn smiled, and the blond dwarf began speaking.

“Dain’s army has been spotted; he’s about half an hour away,” he said. “Uncle wants to speak with you before our cousin gets here. Is everything all right?”

The hobbit excused herself from her elvish family and Legolas, heading towards her friend. She could see the worry on his face and hurried to alleviate some of it, knowing the upcoming battle was weighing on him as well as concern for his family.

“Everything is just fine,” she answered. “I just needed to talk with them for a few moments. Are you all right?”

“I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m frightened about this battle,” he admitted as they walked together to where Thorin was waiting. “I’ve fought before so I shouldn’t be feeling this way.”

“Yes, you should,” Hawthorn told him. “You and your brother have fought in skirmishes; those are nothing like what we’re facing. You have every right to feel afraid, Fili, and I’d be willing to bet that your uncle and other older members of the company are feeling the same way.”

“Even uncle?”

“Especially your uncle,” she said softly. “He has the most to lose – you, your brother, the rest of his family. I’ve a feeling he’s probably already had to talk himself out of locking the three of us in a room until the battle is over.”

Her comment made Fili laugh and shake his head; they both knew Thorin well enough to know that her words were more than likely right.

“You’re probably right,” he admitted. “I think one of the reasons he gave Kili command over the archers on Erebor’s battlements is to keep him off the battlefield as much as possible.”

“That might be one reason,” she shared. “However, given Kili’s talent with a bow, keeping him on the battlements will help save many lives. It’s the best place for him, and I feel better knowing he’s there keeping my loved ones safe.”

“Truthfully, so do I. He’s safe there and will keep others safe,” the dwarf shared. “I don’t think he’s realized this means that he’s stuck on the battlements and not able to get onto the field yet.”

“For our sake, let’s hope it doesn’t dawn on him until later,” she said. “I hope Thorin has thought ahead about that.”

“Knowing uncle, he probably has and will have someone to keep him on the battlements throughout the entire battle,” Fili answered, knocking on the door.

The pair entered the room after hearing the king’s voice, and Thorin smiled when they approached the table where all of the maps were.

“Thank you for coming,” he said to his betrothed, who smiled.

“I’m trying to be as useful as I can,” she answered. “I’m not sure what all I can do right now; I’m not a trained fighter or even know much about tactics to be of use.”

Fili sat down a short ways away from the pair so he could play chaperone without being too much of an interference since he had a fairly good idea why his uncle wanted to see the hobbit.

“That’s one of the reasons I wanted to speak with you,” Thorin said. “I know you’re brave and coming along rather well with learning to use your blade in tandem with your staff, but I would like for you to remain in Erebor and not on the battlefield when the orc army arrives.”

Hawthorn watched him for a moment, feeling relieved at his request and a bit hurt as well. Granted, she knew she had no place fighting against the orc army but the idea of her being useless didn’t sit well with her. 

“You’re not a burden, ukradel,” he continued. “In truth, I am also keeping Ori off of the battlefield as well. He has the strength of his brothers but not the training; I will not make the same mistake my grandfather did in putting people on the field who are not yet ready for it.”

Well, the brothers would be pleased but she doubted Ori would be. She chewed her lower lip for a moment, then broke her silence.

“You want to keep us safe,” she began. “I understand that, but Ori and I will want to help since we cannot fight alongside you.”

“I’ve given thought to that; I will need someone to handle managing Erebor while we’re on the field,” he told her. “This is usually the job for the consort or assigned seneschal as the king is expected to be on the battlefield.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Hawthorn replied.

“I need for you to ensure supplies are at hand for the healers, that teams are sent out to find the injured and bring them back, and also that our guests are kept calm. There may be messages that need to be sent out regarding troop movement, and we’ll need ravens sent out to warn others. You’ll also work with Kili to ensure the safety of our home,” he said. “Any decision you make will be in my name in order to keep the injured and those who are unable to fight safe. Will you do this for me?”

“I’m honored you trust me with this,” she told him, realizing this position he was offering to her was rather important.

“There is nothing I would not trust you with, ukradel,” Thorin told her. “Come, I will introduce you to the ravens. One will be with you at all times to relay messages within the mountain as well as outside. I will have some of them flying over the battlefield in case a message needs to be given to another division.”

Hawthorn turned, looking to Fili.

“Do you mind having a message sent to Ori and ask him if he’d be willing to work with me on this,” she asked. “I could use his knowledge to our advantage during all of this.”

“I’ll have it sent out; where do you want to meet him,” the blond asked.

“The meeting room in the King’s Halls,” she answered. “We’ll see about getting organized and familiarize ourselves with everything so there’s nothing to keep us from reacting swiftly.”

He headed out, and Thorin escorted her up to the area where the ravens roosted. As they walked, he shared the history his family held with the ravens of Erebor and she was utterly intrigued and enchanted with the tradition. The hobbit was rather excited to meet the ravens and hoped they would like her.

The pair entered the roost, and the noise of the ravens quickly died down as an elderly raven flew to a lower perch. 

“I am Rarc, chief of the ravens,” the bird began. “You are the King Under the Mountain, Thorin, son of Thrain?”

“I am,” Thorin replied. “I thank you for allowing your grandson to aid us when we first entered the mountain.”

“He is brave and does his flock proud,” Rarc told him. “For his deeds, he shall be your personal raven until he reaches an age where he must train his replacement.”

“I am honored,” the king said, bowing his head. “I came to introduce my betrothed to you. This is Hawthorn Baggins, daughter of Oin.”

“You found your mate,” the raven said, eyeing the hobbit closely for a moment.

“I have,” he responded. “She has saved my life as well as the lives of my company during the journey here, and she faced the dragon. Mahal and His lady has blessed me greatly.”

“My grandson spoke highly of her for her concern of the welfare of others, and I have heard she tends to those in your nest with kindness.”

“As I have said, I have been greatly blessed,” Thorin agreed. “She will be the greatest queen in the history of my line, and I am honored to have her by my side.”

Hawthorn was blushing, feeling very touched but embarrassed by the conversation, but she said nothing as her betrothed continued speaking to the chief of the ravens.

“I was hoping one of your flock would work with her during the upcoming battle,” he said. “She will be handling Erebor as well as ensuring the injured are taken off the battlefield. Messages regarding movement and other issues will be relayed through her to send to the right people if the ravens don’t know who to go to.”

“I will have several ravens with her so she is not left alone in case messages come in,” the chief said, then made a noise to the flock behind him. 

A large raven flew down to the perch beside the chief.

“This is Runa; she will be your personal raven,” Rarc told Hawthorn.

“I am so very honored,” the hobbit said with a gentle smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Runa.”

“As it is to meet you, my queen,” the raven answered. “I shall serve faithfully.”

“I hope we will be good friends,” Hawthorn told her, then turned when footsteps were heard coming up the stairs to the roost.

“Thorin, Hawthorn,” Ori called as he entered. “Dain is here.”

“At last,” Thorin breathed out, tension slightly bleeding from his frame. He took Hawthorn’s hand and guided her down, wanting to introduce her to his cousin.

The trio went to the meeting room, and Thorin rushed to greet the red haired dwarf waiting there for him. The pair clasped arms, slamming their heads together in a way that made the hobbit wince. 

“It is good to see you,” the king said to his cousin, who grinned at him.

“As it is to see you, cousin; I have been worrying about your journey here. I wish I had been able to help more, but my hands were tied by my council.”

“I’m surprised they allowed you to come,” Thorin said dryly.

“Oh, I fixed the problem when I got home,” Dain said with a smirk. “I told my family what happened and after sitting through a meeting where the so-called nobles were discussing what should be done with Erebor if you did succeed, we decided to change our government. Titles were removed and council disbanded, and our lives are so much easier now.”

“Quite possibly the smartest idea you’ve had,” the dark haired dwarf said. “It was Tyra’s idea, wasn’t it?”

“Guilty,” the red head laughed. “She wanted to come with me, but someone needs to watch over my mountain since my lad isn’t old enough to do so on his own yet. She did send Helka with me to keep both of us out of trouble.”

Hawthorn saw Thorin’s face soften as he turned to a dam standing not far from Dain. She was gorgeous and very petite for a dwarf with long blond hair done up in several braids, which had been twisted into a functional bun. Her sideburns had been braided back into the main braids, and each braid was decorated by beads. 

“That is Helka, sister-daughter to Dain’s wife,” Balin murmured in the hobbit’s ear. “She was Frerin’s One; he was courting her when Thror summoned everyone who could wield a weapon to fight at Azanulbizar. Because our dead was too great to count, they were burned but Thorin brought her his brother’s sword and beads. Helka couldn’t stay in Ered Luin; her grief was too great so she returned to her aunt’s home to heal. Despite her pain, she has written our family faithfully and is counted as sister by Dis and Thorin both.”

“He mentioned her once,” she answered back in a quiet voice, watching as Thorin gently greeted the dwarrowdam. “She and I have something in common, and he spoke of her while trying to comfort me and give me hope for the future. I had hoped to meet her and am glad she accompanied Dain.”

“Hawthorn,” Thorin called, extending a hand to her with a loving smile.

The hobbit moved towards him, laying her free hand in his, and he guided her to face Dain and Helka. Both were watching her with a smile, and she had a feeling they knew who she was.

“Ukradel, this is my cousin, Dain Ironfoot of the Iron Hills,” he said, introducing her to the pair. “This is Helka Swiftblade, sister and dear friend of the family. I want to introduce to you my betrothed, Hawthorn Baggins, daughter of Bungo and Oin.”

“So this is the hobbit,” Dain said, smile getting bigger. “Dis is going to be furious that I got to meet her first. She’s been going on and on in her letters about your One.”

“I should’ve known she wouldn’t be able to keep the news quiet,” Thorin said with a soft chuckle. 

“It’s an honor to meet both of you,” Hawthorn said, giving a small curtsy. “Thorin has spoken of you two, and I have been eager to meet you.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Baggins,” Helka replied, voice soft and held a sweet note to it that made it an enjoyable voice to listen to.

“I’m glad to meet you too, Miss Baggins,” Dain said with a bow. “My cousin, Dis, has been happier than I have heard her in some time because of Thorin meeting you. I have to say, I can see the changes in my cousin too, and I share Dis’s joy in this. Welcome to the family, lass.”

“Thank you,” she said with a smile. “I know Thorin needs to apprise you of the decisions made for the battle so I’ll leave you both to it. Helka, would you like to accompany me? I’m working on ensuring Erebor is ready for this.”

“I’d be honored,” she said, walking alongside Hawthorn as she and Ori left the leaders to finish up with the plans for the battle.

Once alone, Dain looked at Thorin and nodded.

“She’s beautiful, cousin, and seems to know where her priorities should be. From what little I’ve seen, I think she’ll make an excellent wife and queen for you. If she proves to be everything you want and need to be happy, Dis will be ecstatic.”

“I hope so,” the king replied. “I want them to get along; I take it that’s why Helka left with her?”

“Aye, she wanted to make sure and I couldn’t deny her that. She loves you and Dis, and I know she is anxious to find out what kind of person your hobbit is.”

“Hawthorn is amazing, Dain. She’s gone through so much in her life, and it’s left scars on her because of it. Despite all that, she’s a giving person with a heart full of compassion and love. She’s incredibly intelligent, insightful, and well educated. I could not ask for a better person to share my life with,” Thorin answered honestly. 

“You’ll run into opposition regarding any children she carries being an heir,” Dain said mildly, blinking in surprise when his cousin shook his head.

“There won’t be any children, cousin. She was injured in her childhood and suffers the same as Helka does. It’s one reason I hope the two get along because Helka had support when the news was given to her. Hawthorn only had her parents and after they passed, her family and fellow hobbits treated her as an outsider.”

“Mahal, surely not!”

“They did,” he told the other dwarf. “They overcharged her for food, underpaid her for her work. She lost her family home because of the results of her injury, and she still has problems accepting she’s no less important than a dam who can have children.”

“I’ll speak to Helka about it,” Dain said, frowning. “No one should view themselves as lesser because of not being able to forge a bairn. I know my wife’s sister-daughter will do all she can to help once she hears of your betrothed’s problems. I’m certain Oin and Gloin have been working on that?”

“They have, and most of the company has been helping though they don’t know the reasons behind her self esteem problems,” he replied. “They care enough about her to try to push her into accepting she’s important. When we first met her, she didn’t really smile and hadn’t sung in years. Now she’s smiling more and sings when asked. I’m hopeful that she will sing more often once things settle down.”

“It’s a good start,” he told him. “Now, show me what you and the others have planned so we can kill ourselves some orc.”

Thorin nodded and began explaining the battle plans, hoping against hope that Mahal would keep all of his loved ones safe while they fought to protect their home. They had gotten this far and, Valar willing, they were not going to lose any loved ones in this battle or lose their home ever again!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – Someone had asked about Frerin’s One when she was mentioned earlier in the story, and I thought to bring her in so Hawthorn has someone who faces the same difficulties as she does in her life. I hope this chapter wasn’t too dry; please let me know what you thought of it. See everyone next time! ~ Laran


	45. Preparations and Observations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note - Things got delayed thanks to Hurricane Harvey. While my apartment managed to stay solid, my storage unit flooded. I’m going to have to wait until my brother comes back down to help me go through it to pull out what’s ruined. My heart hurts because I had a few pieces of furniture that belonged to my great grandmother, and I have very little that belonged to her. She and I were close when I was a child. So while I am grateful my family is safe, I am also hurting inside because treasured items may be lost – things that belonged to my mother, great grandmother, or crafted by my grandmother. 
> 
> Thank you everyone who has been waiting so patiently. I’m afraid the pain levels have been incredibly high due to the weather, and I just hope that Harvey will be the only storm this year that hits my area. We received over 40 inches of rain, and I know Houston got hit harder. 
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

The tour to get everything ready didn’t take long, and the two women spoke quietly to each other as they walked from location to location. Helka occasionally asked questions about what Hawthorn thought of Erebor, and the hobbit answered them freely while they made their way to each location.

“The memories Thorin and the others shared made everything a bit intimidating,” the younger female said softly to one of the dam’s questions. “We don’t have such grand places back in the Shire and now that I’m able to see where he grew up, I can understand why he wanted to come home so badly. I just hope I can help with the restoration so that Erebor can be a home once again instead of this quiet shell.”

“Most people call our mountains mines,” Helka commented, watching the future queen as the smaller lass blinked at her words.

“How can anyone look at what’s been achieved here in the past and call it a mine? In my mind, mines are utilitarian and not beautiful. Erebor is a thing of beauty; she just needs a bit of work and polish to shine again.”

The dwarrowdam went silent, touched by the others words. It seemed that Thorin had found a gem, and she just hoped that Hawthorn was what she appeared to be. She kept asking questions as they made their way through the mountain, observing the hobbit as she performed the tasks needed to get everything ready for the upcoming battle.

Ori stayed a few feet behind the pair, somehow understanding that the two needed a chance to get to know each other without his interference. He knew the dwarrowdam was important to Thorin’s family, and this was a chance for the two to interact without the influence of others and would see to it they were not interrupted.

Helka got to see the hobbit at work, noticing the gentle manner she used to handle the frightened women and children. She also spotted the little girl who adored the future queen, laughing softly at how the child addressed the lass and quietly agreed to herself that the girl would make an amazing handmaiden once she was trained. The little one was certainly loyal and devoted to Erebor’s future queen, which was important for anyone who worked with the queen.

When Hawthorn stepped forward to ask questions of the healers to ensure they were ready for the battle to come, the dwarrowdam moved to stand beside the scribe.

“Is she always like this?”

“Always like what exactly,” Ori asked, not quite understanding the question.

“Kind and gentle,” Helka answered, keeping her voice soft as she did not want the hobbit to hear this conversation. “The questions she’s answered about the mountain; she’s full of hope and determination. She’s almost too good to be true.”

“She’s got a temper and has learned to control it so it won’t come back to haunt her,” the scribe shared. “She sent us out during the first negotiations with the elves and humans so I don’t know what she did, but it was enough for Thranduil to have his son work with her. He won’t go near her and seemed rather uneasy in her presence during the final part of negotiations. Otherwise, she’s exactly as you see. Lady Yavanna grew a perfect match for our king.”

“So not perfect but a good person,” she asked, smiling when the other nodded. “Thank Mahal, I was hoping he’d find a good person to love. He deserves it.”

“That he does, and Miss Hawthorn does too,” Ori replied. “Our people will flourish under their rule. I think, after Thror, we need someone like Miss Hawthorn to help Thorin. A gentle queen with a firm hand will help everyone heal from the losses we’ve taken since the dragon.”

“Durin’s Folk has lost too much over the years,” Helka agreed. “Dis and I worried that Thorin would become too hard and bitter because of it, but it seems his One has helped to keep that from happening.”

“I know he didn’t want to take a hobbit with us,” the dwarf said softly. “He didn’t think a stranger would be sympathetic to our plight nor take this quest with the seriousness it deserved. From what Kili said, it seemed Thorin was bound and determined to not like whoever it was Gandalf chose to join the company.”

“What changed his mind?”

“Miss Hawthorn did,” Ori answered. “When we arrived, she used an ancient hobbit welcoming with food and drink prepared by her own hands and opened her home and hearth to all of us under the blessings of Lady Yavanna. Balin said that no one has greeted any dwarf of the Longbeard clan with a traditional welcome in a very long time. It startled Thorin, but he answered with the ritual our own people use. 

“The ritual softened him towards her, and he softened further when he realized she didn’t have much money but gave us a fine meal despite her limited resources. She signed onto the quest without demanding anything, and then we saw just how poorly she was treated by the other hobbits. She was underpaid for her craft; she’s an amazing scribe, and we watched as her client tried to cheat her from the agreed upon wages. Balin interfered with that and got her what she deserved.”

Ori went quiet for a moment before continuing explaining the hobbit to her as they watched Hawthorn go through the duties she’d been asked to take care of.

“She pulled a few pranks to retaliate in my honor whenever Fili and Kili went too far; then she hurt herself saving Oin when an accident happened during training. On top of that, she found a clever way to handle a trio of mountain trolls and then helped us with Lord Elrond so we wouldn’t be stopped from continuing with our quest.”

“Judging from all this, I can see why Thorin softened towards her,” the dwarrowdam said.

“She did more than all that,” Ori told her. “She’s done so much, it would take more time than we have right now to recount everything she’s done from the moment we met her. The entire line of Durin owes her several debts for her actions, and I plan on having it written out so when our people return, they can hear of her deeds and know that Thorin has found the perfect queen for our home.”

“I can’t wait to get to know her better,” Helka responded, seeing just how loyal the other was to the hobbit. “Dis said that Azog is gone?”

As they waited on Hawthorn, Ori recounted the story for her and the dwarrowdam shook her head in amazement. She paused when she heard what dagger had been used to kill the orc and gave a soft smile.

“Frerin would be pleased to know that a weapon he crafted slew the one who shed the blood of those of the line of Durin. Thorin did the right thing in gifting that dagger to her,” the dwarrowdam said with a sad note to her voice as she spoke of her One.

“She’s used it well and taken good care of it,” he assured her. “I know she treasures it because it was a gift and that it holds so much meaning to Thorin.”

“I’m glad,” she murmured, smiling when Hawthorn returned to them. Her thoughts were full of what she’d seen and heard, and she spent the time observing as well as coming to a decision about something important.

They went to a few more areas before returning to the meeting room to find all of the rulers, the company, and a few trusted companions were discussing a few things. Before Thorin could greet them, Helka drew her sword and knelt in front of her king.

Hawthorn didn’t understand what was happening since the dwarrowdam was speaking in Khuzdul, but Ori stepped up and translated for her. His voice was low so that they would not interrupt what was going on.

“Your Majesty, I offer my blade and skill and ask that I may be the one to stand between your queen and all who would seek to harm her.”

Thorin was startled for a moment, looking over at Dain and Dwalin before focusing on the one he called sister in his heart.

“You are offering yourself as shield-maiden to my One?” 

“I am, my liege; I would swear myself into her service,” she replied, knowing she had taken him by surprise.

“I would hear your vow, Helka Swiftblade,” Thorin said, straightening as he looked to his cousin.

“I will witness this vow,” Dain said, bowing to his king.

As all eyes focused on her, the brown eyed dwarrowdam began to speak her oath. She could hear Ori translating for the future queen and was glad that Hawthorn could be here to hear this.

“Before my liege and my Maker, I swear my sword and life in the defense of my queen. I will be her shield to protect her from all who seek to harm her. I will be her sword to use to ensure all who rise up against her find themselves facing our Maker in His halls. Her life before mine, ever shall I be watchful for those who would attempt to harm her. This I do swear.”

“I hear and accept your vow,” Thorin told her. “You are her shield-maiden, her constant protector, and I place her safety in your hands.”

“I accept the task, my liege, and I will not fail either of you,” Helka swore.

“If I had time, I would present the bead to mark you as her shield-maiden but I do not have the time or resources to do so. After this mess is over, I’ll make one for you and ensure you have the right armor for your new position,” he promised, turning slightly to see the look of confusion on his betrothed’s face. “Hawthorn?”

“I understand what happened,” the hobbit said. “I don’t understand the why. You do not know me but have sworn to put your life at risk to save mine. Why would you do this?”

Helka rose, tucking a few strands of blond hair out of her face as she sheathed her blade. Her voice was gentle, soothing tension Hawthorn didn’t realize she’d been feeling.

“The dwarrow around Thorin are devoted to you,” she said. “I have known some of them for a very long time, and I know them to be good people with an uncanny ability to read others. They love you very much, and it’s obvious that the humans in the mountain trust you as well. The little girl, your handmaiden, adores you. These things as well as what I have heard since coming here has told me that my heart is right; I will do all I can to protect you as you rule alongside the one I call brother.”

“I had hoped to be friends,” the hobbit said softly, making the dwarrow in the room smile.

“We still can be,” Helka told her. “Dwalin is one of Thorin’s dearest friends, and he is his shield and protector. Their friendship enables them to trust each other so that Dwalin can do his task of protecting his king. In time, you and I will have the same level of trust.”

“I would like that,” she answered. “Though I’m afraid I’m still a bit at a loss as to why you would take this position when you don’t even know me but I will trust you know what you’re doing. The idea of someone sacrificing their life for me does not sit well with me.”

“Which is another reason I am pleased to do this for you,” Helka told her, moving to stand beside her. “You value the lives around you; there are some rulers who do not and those who must lay down their lives for them are not given the honor and regard they deserve.”

“Not here,” Hawthorn said with determination “You and Dwalin...what you do is beyond what others would do, and you deserve every honor that can be granted as well as my respect.”

“Thank you, my lady,” the dwarrowdam said, turning her attention to the messenger that arrived.

“The orcs have been sighted,” the young dwarf said. “We have two hours before they’re within attack range.”

Thorin nodded, sobering as he dismissed everyone to their positions. They would have to move swiftly but given how they had been able to plan for this, he knew the groups would get into their designated locations within a reasonable amount of time.

He headed to his betrothed, kissing her gently before resting his forehead against hers.

“Be safe, ukradel,” he told her. “I have faith you can take care of everything here.”

Hawthorn kissed him back, then pulled one of the hair ties she’d been given out of a pocket. She turned him around, braiding his hair out of his face while leaving the braids of his rank loose. The hobbit made sure the braid was tight and secured well before turning him back around to face her.

“This should keep your hair out of your eyes,” she said to him. “Thorin, promise me you will not do anything foolish and put yourself at unnecessary risk.”

“I promise, laslel,” the king swore to his betrothed. “There is too much to lose, and I will not put everything at risk.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Dwalin said from his position beside Helka. “No chasing after orcs without someone with him to watch over his back.”

“I’m holding you both to that,” the hobbit told them, looking worried. “I expect the entire company to come back to me in one piece.”

“I’ll make sure they know that,” Thorin promised, kissing her once more before going with Dwalin to don their armor so they could join the ranks of soldiers outside.

Once they were out of the room, Ori and Helka watched as the future queen of Erebor murmured something in a language they didn’t recognize. The stance she was in spoke of prayer, and they added their own pleas for the safety of their loved ones.

“Let’s make sure Erebor is ready to receive her victorious king and soldiers,” Hawthorn said, straightening up and heading out to ensure everything was in readiness. 

While she was worried for her loved ones, the hobbit knew she had a task to do and she would make sure that it was done to the best of her abilities. She would put her trust in the skills of the company as well as the protection of the Valar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – I decided to add another endearment – laslel means rose of all roses. Perfect for a hobbit, I think! Thanks to poplitealqueen for providing a list of khuzdul endearments for those of us who like being sappy! I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter. Thanks so much for reading and please let me know what you think of it! See you all next time. ~ Laran


	46. The Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – I will be the first to admit that battle scenes are not my favorite to write so I decided to approach the Battle of Five Armies in a different way then I did with “A Hobbit’s Rescue.” I just hope everyone enjoys it; I know my mother, who beta read this chapter for me before she passed away, was very pleased with it.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make money from this story. The only thing I own are the original characters created to help the story move forward.

As Hawthorn stood on a small battlement near the gate, she shivered as an air of quiet settled over the lands in front of the mountain. It was almost eerie just how still it was; considering the amount of troops waiting for their adversary, one would think there would be a tremendous amount of noise to fill the air.

“Are you all right, Miss Hawthorn,” Ori asked, standing near the future queen.

“It’s so quiet,” she murmured, staring at the assembled mixture of men, elves, and dwarrow. “It’s unnerving to see so many people and not hear a thing.”

“It gives the soldiers time to steady themselves, pray to their makers, as well as make any last minute changes to armor or weapons,” Helka answered. “It will get noisy soon when Dain and Thorin give the signal for the war chants to start to help boost the focus of the dwarrow soldiers as well as gain our Maker’s protection and blessing.”

A deep voice was soon heard, and it was one Hawthorn easily recognized. Thorin was chanting loudly in Khuzdul, and Ori translated for her.

“We are on the field of destiny,  
home is behind and evil ahead.  
The time is now to defend our home!”

“Mahal strengthens our arms and shields,” the dwarrow shouted in unison.

“The enemy approaches,  
our arms will not falter,  
our axes will not break!”

“Mahal strengthens our arms and shields,” the others shouted back, energy building in the air as their voices filled with determination.

“Our shields remain sturdy,  
our courage will hold, and  
the enemy will fail against our might!”

“Mahal strengthens our arms and shields,” they responded again.

“We are the children of Mahal;  
we are stone, and we do not fear  
our destiny or fate.”

“Mahal strengthens our arms and shields,” the response was heard once more.

“The fires will burn in  
forge and hearth; feasts  
will be had in home or   
Maker’s Halls!”

“Mahal strengthens our arms and shields,” they all roared one last time.

“Mahal strengthens our arms and shields,” Thorin roared back.

Hawthorn shivered at the sound, eyes wide as she heard the chant’s response from the troops on the ground and those archers who were dwarrow that were stationed on the battlements of Erebor.

“If I were going to fight against dwarrow and heard that, I think I’d run far away,” the hobbit said, making the two with her laugh. “That was incredible; do other armies do something similar?”

“I’m not sure if they do or not,” Helka answered. “Dwarrow have used chants like this since our fathers woke. I’ve heard chants for miners and smiths as well as soldiers, songs too.”

“We’re taught the general ones when we’re small and learn the ones applicable to our craft when we go into our apprenticeship,” Ori shared.

“Even scribes?”

“We have songs,” he answered. “I’ll teach you those when we have time because you’ll need to know them being a master in the Scrivener’s Guild.”

“I’m anxious to learn them,” she replied, shivering hard when the army of orcs and other fell creatures appeared. “Blessed Yavanna, protect them from such evil.”

She could hear Helka and Ori murmur something in Khuzdul, realizing it was probably a plea for protection as well. Hawthorn added her own plea to Mahal, hoping He would listen to the words of a hobbit.

The still silence was broken when the armies shouted, and a signal had been given where the archers unleashed their deadly volley against the invading group. Screams of pain could be heard when the arrows struck true, and wave after wave of arrows were sent to bring down the numbers.

“Not enough,” Helka murmured as the ground troops rushed to engage each other. 

“What is,” she asked the other female, eyes fixed on the battle in front of them.

“Not enough have been taken down by the archers before the ground troops moved in,” the other answered. “There are more orcs and goblins than expected; how in Mahal’s name are they so quick to multiply?”

“I don’t think I want to know,” Ori said, keeping an eye out for ravens as well as any injured that the healers would have to go out for.

“I don’t think I do either,” Hawthorn agreed, shivering as the screams of those dying or injured began drifting up to where they stood. 

The next few hours were excruciating for her as she received ravens and sent the messages on to the proper people, checked in with the healers to ensure they had everything they needed, and ensured that the humans taking shelter in the mountain were calm. Ori had hired several of the older boys who had been too young to fight in the battle to run messages inside the mountain for Hawthorn whenever the ravens were too busy.

A few of the messages were from Thorin with orders to other units where the ravens hadn’t been quite sure where to go or were exhausted. Those messages relieved her somewhat, though she knew he wasn’t badly hurt due to their bond. 

Not knowing exactly how he or any of her family was doing had her stomach in knots, and it took every ounce of control she had to keep from crying or screaming as she dearly wanted to do. Ori and Helka were there to provide strength as she sent healers out again and again, fearing that one of those trips would mean seeing her loved ones being borne on a stretcher or in the arms of a healer.

“They’ll be fine, Miss Hawthorn,” Ori reassured her, understanding her worry because his brothers were out on the field as well. “We have to have faith in Mahal and their skills. Thorin is very well trained in the art of war, same as Fili and Kili. The others are keen fighters too. Just remember that, okay?”

She rested her hand on her friend’s shoulder, giving him a tired smile.

“I’ll try to, Ori,” she said, then frowned when she noticed something. “Do we have any watchers near the ravens’ nesting area?”

“I’m not sure,” he answered.

She looked at Runa, concern filling her voice.

“Fly over to the roosting area and see if there’s any goblins near there,” she instructed. “I caught what looks like movement over there. If there’s signs of the enemy and none of our soldiers, let Thorin know so he can make sure there’s no way that area can be used to surprise our forces.”

The raven took off, and she chewed her lower lip as she held onto her staff and leaned on it for a moment. Her leg was bothering her, but the hobbit chose to ignore it for now as she continued to send messages out.

Hawthorn could tell when that message was delivered because she could feel Thorin’s tension rising even higher than it had been moments before. She sent what calmness she could without distracting him, hoping it would help. It must have because the hobbit sensed a wave of gratitude from him before his determination rose even higher.

“I’ve read so much about how battles are horrible, which they are, but it’s the waiting that’s the worst,” she muttered, clinging tightly to her staff in hopes of grounding herself. “I know Thorin’s not hurt; I can sense him clearly. It’s just not knowing if the others are doing all right. I hate this not knowing.”

“That’s what makes war an ugly business for those left behind,” Helka agreed. “Those who are left behind are burdened with the horrible wait, fears, and the dread of the unknown. It’s one of the reasons ravens or other messenger birds accompany troops so that those left behind will not have to worry as much. The bonds between Ones help as well, but that is not something that can be used to determine the health and well being of siblings, parents, or friends.”

“I think it’s the only reason I’m not pulling my hair out with worry and stress,” Hawthorn admitted. “If I didn’t have the bond, I’d be worrying much more than I am about him and the others. It helps to know he’s doing all right at the moment, but I just wish this was over.”

“We all do,” Ori said, sounding grim.

The fighting went on until close to sunset when several things happened. She felt a surge of pain from Thorin, dimmed only by the wave of triumphant glee that swept over them both. When she sensed that, she heard shouts from the army, cheering for their victory.

“It’s over,” Helka said, then gave a loud cry of khuzdul for those in earshot to hear.

Several ravens perched near her, and Runa bowed.

“The battle is won,” the bird told her. “The king and the ancient elf ended the life of the leader of the army. The one named Glorfindel said to tell you that you are no longer to worry; your mate is injured but not terribly so. The fighting that still remains is only to destroy the ones fleeing so as to prevent more attacks later.”

“Send word to the healers that the battle is over; they’re just mopping up so the teams need to go out in full force and retrieve the wounded. Let Kili know that his archers can assist the healers in recovering the injured.”

At her orders, the birds flew off to deliver their messages. Once that was done, she slumped against the wall of the battlement, bracing herself for several long moments as relief washed over her. Ori and Helka gave her concerned looks but said nothing, smiling when she straightened herself back up.

“Let’s find out the status of our family and company,” Hawthorn said, leading the way off of the battlement.

Once off of the battlement, she stopped a messenger and sent word to the kitchens to have food and drink prepared for everyone, making sure the injured had dishes they could eat without trouble. She knew now that word was given, the staff would ensure there was food and drink available at all hours and the rotation between workers so that no one overworked themselves had begun. The only thing they had been worried about so far is ensuring the healers had a constant supply of hot water so the risk of infection would be lowered as well as those taking care of washing the material for the bandages.

Hawthorn took reports from various areas, comforting those who had lost comrades or family members, and she would not turn away from her tasks when Ori and Helka realized she had been on her feet for too long. She was determined to work to keep her mind off of the lack of news regarding her family and friends.

The hobbit stopped only when she heard her name called by a voice that she had recently become familiar with, and she turned to spy Dain heading towards her. The dwarf was covered in black orc blood but looked to be unhurt.

“Lord Dain,” she called, heading towards him. “Are you all right?”

“I’m a bit bruised and will be sore later once my body has time to rest, but I’ve no serious injuries. Since we’re to be cousins, I would take it as a kindness if you called me Dain.”

“As you wish,” Hawthorn replied. “Did you need me for something?”

“Aye, the company is in the King’s Halls and being attended to by the healers. Thorin asked me to find you,” he told her, escorting her to the halls since she started on that way as soon as she heard where the company was.

“How badly were they hurt?”

“Not too badly,” he admitted. “Bifur lost his ax, doing surprisingly well now that it’s gone. Bofur took some scrapes and broke two fingers. Bombur is only bruised in places. Nori cracked a few ribs, and Dori has a concussion. Gloin has broken ribs and has to have stitches in his side where a goblin got too close. Fili had his arm pulled out of socket, but it’s been tended to. He’ll be in a sling for a while until it heals. Thorin broke his ankle when he ducked out of that damned white orc’s way.”

Hawthorn sighed, relieved to hear that the wounds weren’t too serious, and she would have to make sure that her family took it easy until they were cleared by Oin to be doing more than delegating orders or signing paperwork.

“Thank Yavanna and Mahal,” she said softly. “I haven’t seen this Bolg but if he was as big as his sire, then he was fairly huge for anyone of our sensible sizes.”

“Indeed,” Dain answered. “Your message to check out Raven Hill helped considerably as that led us to stopping another large group from outflanking us. Bolg was in that group, and Thorin disarmed him before having to duck. That blond elf, Glorfindel, was the one to cut his head off. Damned blighters went running when their leader fell.”

Silently, she thanked Glorfindel for staying close to her betrothed. 

The doors to the King’s Halls were opened for them, and she was led to the rooms where Thorin and his sister-sons were staying for the moment until the king’s chambers were readied for Thorin to move into. Dain opened the door for her, and she went into the sitting room. 

Hawthorn heard Thorin’s voice and went to the master bedroom, tapping on the open door.

“Come in, khajmel,” he said, holding a hand out to her.

She hurried inside, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking his hand. Her eyes skimmed over him, seeing only bruises before they fell on his left foot. The ankle had been splinted well and was propped onto a pillow to help with the swelling.

“It’s all right,” the king soothed, stroking the back of her hand before placing a kiss there. “If you had not noticed the movement, it would have been worse for all of us. Thank you for being so observant and letting me know what was going on. Also, as much as I hate to say it, thank you for asking your other heart-kin to watch over us. The additional help was needed.”

“I was afraid you’d be furious about it,” Hawthorn admitted.

“I wasn’t happy when I realized it, but when one of Elrond’s sons saved Fili from being stabbed in the back, I found myself grateful for what you did. I also gave my thanks to them for their aid and protection,” he told her, kissing her hand again.

“Is it truly over,” the hobbit asked, looking hopeful and frightened at the same time.

“It is over, khajmel,” Thorin said soothingly. “All we have to focus on now is restoring the mountain, helping rebuild Dale, and getting married.”

Hawthorn laughed a bit at that, hands shaking as the tension finally released. She squeezed his hand, taking comfort when he squeezed back.

“Thank Yavanna,” she said softly. “I’m not sure I can handle any more battles or terrifying events for a while.”

“All you have to worry about now is managing my idiot cousin,” Dain snickered from his place near the door as he and Helka were chaperoning the pair for the moment.

“That’s a task I will take on gladly,” Hawthorn replied with a smile.

“Dain, when you have a moment, ask Ori for some paper and writing utensils. I should write Dis to let her know what happened so she doesn’t hear the rumors and worry,” he asked his cousin.

“I’ll let the lad know,” the red haired dwarf promised.

“Helka, could you please find someone to take a message to Mithrandir for me?”

“Mithrandir,” the dwarrowdam asked the hobbit, sounding confused.

“You call him Gandalf,” Hawthorn answered. “Mithrandir has been my name for him since I was a fauntling. Just have the messenger remind him that he needs to see me about a certain item I found before he leaves to go wherever he’s needed next.”

Helka smiled and bowed, heading to find a messenger to take care of the errand for the future queen.

Thorin smiled, squeezing her hand once more. He’d nearly forgotten about that ring, and he hoped it would be something that would easily be taken care of.

“So, how much has Balin told you about the steps that are needed to be followed before the wedding can take place?”

“He explained some of it, but I don’t remember a lot of it,” she admitted. “So much has happened since that conversation took place.”

He began explaining the process to her, using examples from his sister’s marriage as well as what he had been told about his parents’ wedding as well. It was a lot to share, and she was attentive as he explained everything to her.

Gandalf sent a message back, which Helka relayed after dismissing the messenger. He would be staying for a while and would come to see her when things calmed down in the infirmary. The wizard was helping where he could, along with Elrond, his sons, and other elves with him who were talented in the art. 

Hawthorn breathed a sigh of relief, knowing she was getting close to finally being rid of the trinket she had picked up. She turned her gaze back to her betrothed, questioning him on a few details in regards to where she could help with the restoration of the mountain, and gladly focused on what was important.

At the moment, it was time to celebrate their victory and enjoy their new home with the knowledge that the orcs would not bother them for a long time.

Thorin smiled at her, gladly chatting with her about the mountain, and he forced back the small feeling of dread that had risen when she’d sent the message to Gandalf about the ring she’d found. He sent a silent prayer to his Maker, hoping that this would not be a serious issue once the item was examined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – Khajmel means gift of all gifts, and I found it on poplitealqueen’s tumbler and it has been an amazing writing tool since I found it! I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter. Let me know what you think. I’ll see everyone next chapter! ~ Laran


	47. The One Ring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – I’ve been slow on posting lately, and I apologize for that. Real life has been a kick in the teeth lately with everything going on. I do hope you all enjoy this. 
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make money from this story.

Due to how busy the aftermath of the battle was, it took Gandalf several days to find the time to meet with the granddaughter of his heart. It didn’t take him long to find her as she was in Thorin’s rooms, taking notes as the king held a meeting regarding housing and food for the occupants of Erebor. Winter would mean difficulty in gathering food, not that there was much due to the desolation left behind by dragon and war, and Thorin was focused on ensuring the dwarrow and humans living within his mountain would have enough food and fuel for warmth to survive the cold months.

The meeting paused when the Istar entered the king’s bedroom and was greeted by the company, who were now Thorin’s council and advisers. 

“I seem to have interrupted something important,” he said, taking a seat when Kili dragged a chair out for him.

“Just trying to get the numbers to match for food and fuel needs,” Balin answered. “Thankfully, Rivendell has committed to sending food and fuel as well as Lothlórien. With that aid as well as fishing and foraging in the areas Thranduil’s people deem to be safe, we should have enough food to last. The first of the fishermen and foragers went out today to get as much as they could to be preserved before the first snow falls for the winter.”

“That is good news,” Gandalf answered, lighting his pipe. “Elrond mentioned that Hawthorn’s uncle will be sending supplies to help rebuild the farms and orchards, and those should be here before the time arrives for planting. The instructions needed for that will be sent along with your things before winter falls and travel becomes impossible due to snow.”

“That will ease Bard’s mind,” Hawthorn said softly. “It give him something to focus on during the winter months. It’s better to have the farms and orchards planned out so they know how to prepare the soil before the seeds and saplings are ready for planting.”

“Indeed,” the wizard agreed. “Now, I believe I promised to take a look at the ring you found in the Misty Mountains.”

The hobbit pulled it out of a pocket, not looking happy to be touching it, and she held it out to Gandalf. The Istar reached out, almost touching it before he froze. A myriad of expressions crossed his face before he pulled back, and his voice held a note of worry and some fear to it as he questioned the group.

“Is the library deemed safe to be used?”

“It is but we’ve not gotten too far into it since the back section was still due to be inspected,” Ori answered, looking to Bofur.

“We took a look at it shortly before the battle. It’s steady enough through there,” the former miner told the wizard. “The mirrors aren’t in place so you’ll have to make do for lighting.”

“Gandalf, what is it,” Thorin asked, unnerved by the expression on the Maia’s face.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Hawthorn, keep it safe in your pocket and tell no one of it. This company must not speak a word to anyone before I have the answers I am looking for.”

All of them swore not to say a word and after the wizard hurried from Thorin’s rooms, all eyes turned to Hawthorn with expressions of worry on their faces. It was obvious she was both confused and uneasy by her old friend’s actions.

“In all my years, I have never seen Gandalf react like that,” Balin said. “While I’ve seen him worried, I’ve never seen him looking frightened. Whatever that little thing is you picked up, it’s got him very upset.”

The hobbit looked worried, not liking what was going on. She had just wanted to get rid of the ring, and it seemed that it wouldn’t be that easy.

“I hope it’s not too bad,” she said, voice tight as she looked down at the notes she was taking.

The others agreed, returning to the meeting, and despite the importance of what they were working on, everyone kept hoping that her wish about that ring not being something too bad would come true. 

It took two days before the company was called to assemble once more in Thorin’s rooms. This time, Gandalf was accompanied by Galadriel, Glorfindel, and Elrond, and all three of them looked incredibly grave. Once everyone was seated, Galadriel began the meeting.

“Mithrandir spoke of what you found, Hawthorn,” she said to the hobbit. “He told us of what he saw when he nearly touched it, and we aided him in his research.”

“Hawthorn,” the Istar said softly. “I want you to put it in the fire please.”

The hobbit frowned at the odd request but got up to do as he asked, dropping the ring into the flames. She waited, watching as Gandalf used a set of tongs to lift the ring out of the fire and held it out to her.

“Wait a moment, the band was plain before you had me put it in the fire,” she said. “There’s writing on it now that looks similar to elvish.”

The company noticed the looks of strain, worry, and fear on the faces of the elves and wizard when her words were spoken. Glorfindel’s voice was soft as he answered her.

“The language is that of the Black Speech of Mordor,” he told her. “In Westron, it says ‘one ring to rule them all, one ring to find them, one ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.’”

“You cannot be serious,” Ori exclaimed, looking sick. “She found the Ring of Sauron in the goblin tunnels?”

“She did indeed,” Elrond answered, shaken but still showing calm. “The news is even more disturbing considering what we found in Dol Guldur. The Necromancer Radagast warned us of was none other than Sauron himself.”

Hawthorn sank into her chair, pale and shaking as voices exploded around her. Everyone was in agreement that the ring needed to be destroyed, especially given this piece of news, but the dwarrow knew that this would demand a unique set of circumstances because the One Ring was not created as the other Rings of Power had been.

Thorin roared for silence, and the dwarrow quieted around him.

“We know this ring must be destroyed,” Thorin said, looking to the elves. “As the dwarrow who called Celebrimbor friend, we know the Rings of Power need heat beyond what our forges can produce to destroy them. In fact, it took dragon fire to destroy the few that were not stolen by the Deceiver. With that in mind, how do we destroy that evil thing before Sauron gains enough strength and realizes his ring is here?”

“The only way to destroy the ring is to take it into the heart of Mount Doom,” Elrond answered. “That is where it was forged, and that is is where it can be unmade.”

The king frowned for several long moments, contemplating what needed to be done, and he looked at the elves.

“Can any of you take it into Mordor without becoming ensnared by it?”

The three elves looked at each other for several long moments, and Glorfindel shook his head. He hated the answer he had to give.

“No, we cannot bear this burden into Mordor,” the Balrog Slayer told him. “We can escort someone who carries the ring, but we will not be able to hold it because it will try to use us to get it back to its master. The closer we get to Mordor, the stronger it will become.”

“So what you’re saying is that we need to form a company and take it to Mordor ourselves,” Dain asked, expression hard as he looked to the older beings.

“A ring bearer must be chosen and a company formed to protect that person,” Galadriel replied. “It must be done swiftly before it begins to wake and corrupt the one who carries it.”

“We won’t be walking into Mordor,” Gandalf said. “At least, not all the way. I’ll be asking Gwaihir for his aid in the journey from here to Mordor. I have no idea if they can take us all the way to Mount Doom, but any distance will be of great aid to us.”

“You will be escorting the ring bearer,” Thorin asked, not too surprised considering how Gandalf was in regards to ensuring the safety of the people of Middle Earth.

“I will be,” the wizard answered gravely.

“As will I,” Glorfindel stated. “Elrond can do without me for some time, and I know his sons will remain here to assist in the healing of those still injured while he has to return to Imladris soon. While I cannot carry the ring, I can help the one carrying it.”

“The question now is who is going to carry it all the way to Mordor,” Bofur commented from his seat, looking rather displeased by everything going on.

“If you want my opinion,” Oin stated. “The one who carries this burden should not be a dwarf from Durin’s Line. We do have the weakness in us, and those who are able to withstand it do so only because of the bonds they share with their Ones. If the ring should start to regain strength, it would be all too easy to ensnare us.”

“The dwarrow kings given the rings by Celebrimbor withstood them,” Ori pointed out.

“Yes but the One Ring is vastly more powerful,” Balin explained. “Even with our hardy natures and love for our crafts, it would find a way to corrupt us where the seven dwarf rings could not.”

A voice chimed in that surprised everyone, and Thorin felt a mix of fear and pride when he recognized it.

“I’ll be the ring bearer,” Hawthorn said. “I was the one who found it, and I should be the one to take it so it can be destroyed.”

The company tried to object, and she managed to make herself heard and calm them down as she presented her reasons for going.

“Some of you are too injured to do this even if you weren’t of Durin’s Line,” the hobbit pointed out. “All of you are important to restoring Erebor so that the dwarrow in Ered Luin can come home to find they have places to live. I’m too disgusted by the wretched thing to be pulled in by it so I think I can handle carrying it for a short while longer.”

Helka spoke up, addressing the group.

“As her shield-maiden, I will go with her and protect her,” she stated, drawing a grateful look from Thorin.

There was a bit of background noise after that, and Thorin gestured for his own Shield to step forward. He murmured softly in Dwalin’s ear and after a few moments, the burly dwarf went to Bifur to discuss something with him in a low tone. After a brief discussion, the tattooed dwarf spoke up.

“I will be going as well,” he said, aware of Hawthorn’s eyes on him.

“Dwalin, you’re Thorin’s Shield and leader of his troops,” she objected. “You’re needed here.”

“Bifur will be taking over as Thorin’s Shield until I return,” the balding dwarf replied. “Your task is one of great importance and as our king cannot go with you, I will go instead to ensure that Erebor’s greatest treasure returns home safely.”

Hawthorn blinked, confused by his words, and Kili spoke up before she could question Dwalin on it.

“I’ll go as well,” the prince volunteered. “Since uncle can’t go and Fili is needed here, I will go in Thorin’s stead and provide the strength you will need. Also, another archer could be useful.”

Thorin gave his sister-son a grateful look; the bond between him and Hawthorn would be useful but since it wouldn’t be at full strength until after the wedding, he would not be able to provide as much strength as she would need to fulfill this task. Having Kili there to provide comfort, reassurance, and strength as her future nephew would help ease his worries a great deal.

“Balin, have someone find a chain to put that damned thing on,” he instructed. “I would feel better knowing it wasn’t laying in her pocket where it could be stolen or lost. Also, how quickly can supplies be gathered for them?”

“We can have everything ready for them to leave tomorrow morning,” Dain answered.

“Then they will depart at that time,” Thorin said, relying on his strength to hide his worry about his loved ones leaving on such a dangerous mission. “We will support them with prayers to Mahal and ensure that Erebor is ready for their successful return.”

The company dispersed afterwards with the ones who had volunteered to go with Hawthorn going to prepare their equipment. Once the group had gone, leaving Helka as chaperon, Thorin looked to his betrothed.

“I know this is necessary, but I wish you didn’t have to go do this. My heart aches at the thought of you leaving,” he admitted as she sat on the edge of the bed and took his hand.

“I wish I didn’t have to go too,” Hawthorn answered, looking tired. “I know there’s a lot I could be helping with here, and there’s wedding preparations as well as the steps I have to go through for the Acts of Devotion.”

“If a date is scheduled, I promise it will be far enough ahead so that you and I have time to perform the Acts,” the dwarf assured her, thumb caressing her palm. 

“That’s good,” she said, sighing softly. “We have to wait until your sister gets here anyway; she’d murder us both if we got married without her.”

“There is that,” Thorin admitted, making Helka snicker in the background. “Don’t think you wouldn’t get in trouble for allowing it,” he bantered at the dwarrowdam.

“Oh I know I would, but I still find it amusing you have your future bride already planning on staying out of trouble in regards to Dis,” Helka said with another giggle.

“Any sane person would do their best to stay out of trouble where my sister in concerned,” he deadpanned, eyes twinkling with mirth.

Hawthorn just smiled at their antics, holding onto his hand. These were memories she would keep with her during her journey, and she prayed that the Valar would keep her group safe as well as those she was leaving behind to take care of this wretched ring.

Thorin met her eyes, kissing her hand softly before addressing her in a reassuring tone.

“You will be fine,” he said. “You have three strong dwarrow to watch over you as well as the Balrog Slayer himself. Gandalf will be there too so I know you’ll be as safe as possible.”

“I just hate this,” she admitted. “I’m afraid and haven’t left yet.”

“You faced a dragon, ukradel. You can face another mountain to drop a ring into its heart,” he assured her. “I’ll be with you in spirit; our bond is there for you to rely on, not just me.”

Tears filled her eyes and after a quick glance at Helka, who nodded, Thorin drew Hawthorn into a warm hug. She held onto him, crying softly as he murmured words of reassurance. If he could, he would gladly take this burden and fulfill this task but he knew he couldn’t. All he could do was provide what loving support he could and send her with those he trusted so that the greatest treasure of his heart would be protected and return home to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – And now the One Ring has been identified. What do you think of the choices for those who are going with her to destroy it? Please let me know what you thought of the chapter. Also, enjoy the holiday season and please be safe. I will see you all next chapter! ~ Laran


	48. Departure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – I know it’s been a bit since I’ve posted; there’s been a lot of worries on my shoulders right now. Some things are easing up and others aren’t. I’m just taking it a day at a time and hope that things will get better.
> 
> Disclaimer – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

Oin had allowed Thorin to use the crutches Bifur had made for him so he could see Hawthorn and her company off. The king was doing his best to keep his calm, not liking the idea of sending his One so far away and into such a dangerous area while not being able to go with her. His heart ached at the knowledge of what she was going to face, and Fili gently squeezed his uncle’s shoulder as they watched the newly formed company climb onto the backs of the massive eagles who had helped them so much in the past. The blond knew of his uncle’s fears and was afraid for those he loved as well.

“Kili and Dwalin will keep an eye on her and give her the courage needed for this task,” his eldest sister-son promised in a low voice, hoping to reassure his uncle. “Helka will ensure she’s protected as well, and you know she’s incredibly talented with those blades of hers. The elf and Gandalf are fond of her and will see to it she’s safe.”

“I do trust them to see to her safety, but I know this will not be an easy journey for her,” Thorin admitted to the other dwarf. “I want to be there to provide strength when she needs it, and my heart knows this journey will be more difficult than the one that brought us home.”

“You and I both know that Kili will share what he can with her in your stead,” Fili reminded him, staying close to his uncle as the eagles took off. “You also have the bond to keep track of how she is and offer what strength you can that way. You will be important in keeping her strong, uncle, so don’t think you won’t be.”

“I wish the bond was at full strength,” he murmured.

“I know,” the younger dwarf told him, squeezing the other’s shoulder once again. “For now, use it as best as you can to support her through this. In the meantime, we’ll do everything we can to make sure she is surprised by the changes in her new home when she returns.”

That was something that helped pull Thorin away from his pain and fears. He looked at Fili, determination starting to show in his expression as he answered his sister-son.

“You’re right; there’s a lot to be done. If possible, I’d like the royal chambers renovated to make them more comfortable for her. I will use the time to plan out what to do for my Acts of Devotion as well as starting wedding preparations.”

“Don’t do too much or Mother will shave us both bald from head to toe,” Fili said, a small smile playing on his lips. “She’ll blame me for not stopping you and letting you steal her fun. I have no desire to be her target when she realizes she’s missed your Acts of Devotion as well as taking away her chance to plan your wedding.”

“I don’t doubt she would,” the king said, shaking his head. “I can order fabrics and other items Hawthorn will need. I also want the queen’s jewels found and inspected by the best jeweler we have here. Fortunately, hobbits aren’t that much smaller than dwarrow so they should fit her without having to adjust them a great deal.”

“I’ll talk to the company and make sure that the people who organize the treasure so it can be divided know to pull the queen’s jewels out to be cleaned, repaired, and sent to you. I’m sure you’ll want to make some beads for her as well,” he suggested, walking slowly back into the mountain after the eagles were no longer able to be seen.

“I do, and I need to craft the bead for Helka to show her new position as Hawthorn’s shield-maiden. There’s a lot to do,” Thorin admitted. “She deserves a wedding and coronation that will be spoken of for generations.”

“Remember, as a hobbit she may not want something too big,” Fili reminded him. “I’m not sure what Oin, Gloin, or Balin might have told her regarding what is expected for the royal wedding and coronation of the queen.”

“I’ll find out,” he said, glad to have other things to focus on beside the aching void in his heart now that his One was gone from his side. “Keeping busy is what I need right now so I won’t spend my time worrying. She will need me to be strong and clear minded so she won’t fret over me.”

“I’ll let Balin know that you’ll need work to keep busy, but we’ll have to make sure you don’t overdo it. The last thing Hawthorn needs to come home to is an exhausted betrothed,” the blond commented. “There’s a lot to do, and we’ll get it taken care of.”

Fili escorted Thorin back to the King’s Halls, settling him in the room chosen for the company to hold meetings and ensured he had something to prop his foot up on. The company soon drifted in, and the king could see the worried looks on their faces as well as Dain’s when he came in behind Balin.

“Before we get started, how are you, Thorin,” Balin asked, looking worried for his cousin now that Hawthorn had left.

“To be honest, I hate that she’s gone and it makes me feel helpless having to stay behind while she risks her life to destroy that damned thing,” the monarch told his adviser. “I feel hollow and a cross between furious and sad right now.”

“It’s to be expected since the bond is still forming,” Gloin told him. “It won’t be easy, but you’ve got us to help you whenever you feel like you can’t handle what you’re feeling. Don’t try to hide it from us, cousin; there’s no shame in asking family for help.”

“I will,” he told the red-head. “I don’t like any of this, but I want Hawthorn to come home and find me healthy. She won’t be happy if I’m a mess emotionally or physically, and I have a feeling she’s going to need all of us at full health in order to help her through the aftereffects of the quest she is now undertaking.”

“No, she wouldn’t be and I imagine she’d be upset with us for allowing you to reach that point,” the other answered, making the rest of the dwarrow in the room nod. “So this means you need things to focus on until she returns, but you can’t exhaust yourself.”

“Ori, will you take notes please,” Thorin said, watching as the scribe dragged out paper and writing utensils. “Dain, not that I am eager for you to leave but I need to know so I can plan accordingly. How long do you plan on remaining?”

“My son is leading a team of crafters here, bringing supplies for food, fuel, and repairs, and I’ll be returning with him after that. He told me that people have been asking to return home; he told them to wait until after winter so there will be a safe place for them to live and have plenty of food,” he answered with a small smile. “I’d like to leave some troops to help you keep your home safe until the rest of your people arrive from Ered Luin.”

“He made the right decision in refusing them,” the king said, glad his namesake had thought that far ahead. “As it is, Bard’s people will be wintering here and there’s barely room for them. I’d like to bring them home but only when I have room and supplies to spare. Restoring Erebor will take time, and I need to ensure that those living here have enough to live comfortably on.”

“Fortunately, most of the damage is due to being empty and untended for so long,” Bifur said, sharing what he and Bofur had discovered so far. “Gandalf did see to the treasury so we can send someone in to inspect the floor and pillars in there.”

“The treasury needs to be compared to the inventory I know Grandfather had and the items that aren’t ours will be given to the ones it belongs to,” Thorin said. “I don’t want to devote a large team to that since there’s a lot to be done, but we can’t let it sit and draw another dragon either. I will be a lot more comfortable once that mess is gone through and used properly.”

“I found Thror’s ledger,” Balin told him, noticing the pleased expression that crossed Thorin’s face at the news. “So the sorting can begin once the area is deemed safe for the team to begin work; we can have some of our dwarrow clean and repair what isn’t ours so the owners will not be able to complain about the damage. It was in his old chambers.”

“Speaking of which, I’d like a small team assigned to those rooms,” the dark haired dwarf said. “I want all of the heavy ornamentation that wasn’t a part of the rooms’ original design to be removed. If time works out, I’d like them to be ready for when Hawthorn and I wed. I want them to be comfortable for both of us.”

“Originally, you were going to hold off on that,” Oin stated. 

“That was until I heard that her father built a home for her mother before they married,” Thorin said, blushing just a tad. “I’d like to have a home for her as part of her bridal gift if it’s possible.”

The company nodded, smiling at each other, and Bombur broke the silence.

“We’ll get it done,” he promised. “It’s a lovely idea, and she’ll be happy you remembered the story and made it a bit of a tradition.”

Thorin smiled at that, relieved, and the meeting continued. Discussions were had about inventories for food and supplies, what needed to be repaired and cleaned next, as well as security issues. Plans were put into place, and everyone was pleased with what had been decided on by the time the group went to their own rooms to rest for the night.

The king lay in his rooms once he’d changed and gotten into bed, foot propped up on several pillows. His heart ached, and he closed his eyes to reach out to Hawthorn. He could tell she was feeling the same, and the aching eased a little when she reached out to greet him as best as she could with the way the bond was.

Thorin sent his love to her as well as his belief in her strength, feeling her worries lighten a bit, and he smiled to himself. If this was what she needed to get through this journey, then he would lend every ounce of support the bond allowed him to send to her. It would certainly help ease some of his own worries if he could do just a little bit to help her on this quest.

Eventually, he fell asleep and dreamed of her with him. It was a dream that cheered him, and he remained cheerful after he woke. Thorin knew what he had to do and as he worked on ensuring his betrothed would return home to a much brighter Erebor, he focused himself on ensuring to send what confidence, comfort, and love through the bond to her to sustain her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Note – I know it’s a bit short, but I had to try to get things moving in the right direction once more. I think this did just that. Please let me know what you guys thought of it. Thanks for reading, and I’ll see everyone next chapter! ~Laran


	49. Divine Intervention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note – I originally had another chapter written for chapter forty-nine, but my dear friend made mention of an idea that was just too good to pass up so I had to include it. I also want to think the wonderful people on the Bagginshield Discord Server! I couldn’t have gotten through this without you guys. For this particular chapter, I found inspiration from kimberly80 on deviant art. I had to pull myself away from her gallery because her works on Tolkien were beyond amazing; if you have time, head there and look her up because you will be just as blown away as I was!
> 
> Author’s Note – I do not own “the Hobbit” nor do I make any money from this story.

When a familiar figure passed the doors of His forge for the sixtieth time in under an hour, the being working at the anvil realized He needed to intervene before His beloved wore a groove into the stone pathway outside of His workshop. With a soft sigh, Mahal laid His hammer down and exited the forge to find His wife.

“Yavanna, gayadê, what is it that is troubling you?”

The slender figure, clad in a flowing green gown, stopped and turned to face the Smith. Pale green eyes, full of worry and heartbreak, met the steady blue gaze of Mahal.

“I worry, Cariad,” Yavanna said, her soft tones sounding rough under the weight of her concerns. “My merch faces a truly dark path, and I fear that her companions will not be enough to keep the cylch tywyllwch from destroying her.”

Mahal went to His beloved wife, enfolding Her into his arms. He felt Her own circle his waist and drew Her even closer. The Vala hated it when She was troubled like this; He could not blame Her for Her worries because the hobbit lass that held His wife’s attention carried a burden that would crush any mortal.

“The bond she holds with Thorin should keep her safe,” He shared in a quiet voice. “I know my son keeps the bulk of his attention focused so she can draw upon his strength.”

“We both know it may not be enough, gŵr annwyl, since the bond will not be complete until their wedding night. This troubles me deeply. Hawthorn has been through more pain and heartbreak than I want for any of my children, and I know the scars from that will grant the cylch tywyllwch more opportunities to try to destroy her.”

Mahal held Her, sharing His strength in hopes of calming the one who held His heart. He hated seeing Her so distraught, and He knew She had good reason to fear for the child. The burden the young hobbit carried could very easily destroy her without the proper support.

“I think, khajmel, that we should go to Lorien and speak with Irmo,” He suggested, having a twinge of an idea.

She lifted Her face from His shoulder, hope starting to form in Her eyes.

“Do you think He can help?”

“I have an idea, and I believe He can help me refine it,” He told Her, brushing the soft wheat colored hair out of Her face. “If He agrees, we may have what we need to help the child through this quest of hers.”

She nodded, and they left the home they had built together to go to the gardens of Lorien. The journey was not a long one, and they found Irmo talking with Estë under the boughs of a willow tree.

“Yavanna,” the healer called, rising to Her feet to greet Her friend with a gentle embrace. “It is good to see you.”

“As it is to see you, dear friend,” the Lady of Fruits answered with a small smile. “The garden looks very beautiful.”

“My dear Irmo has spent more time on it lately,” Estë told Her. “He has been rather anxious of late and has been spending more time gardening than usual.”

“I probably know why,” Mahal stated, guiding the two Valier to where the other Vala waited for them.

The Smith had to duck to keep from hitting His head on the branches of the willow, but He welcomed the sight of relaxtion the choice of location had brought to the beautiful face of His laslel. He helped both Valier to sit before taking a seat at Yavanna’s side.

“Welcome,” Irmo greeted, voice soft. “I believe I know why you two are here.”

“When did you discover this,” Mahal asked Him, not surprised that the other Vala knew what was going on in Middle Earth. 

“Vairë summoned me not too long ago,” the Master of Dreams replied, sounding tired. “She was rather surprised by the decisions made by your children and called for me, Mandos, and Manwë to see the changes made to certain tapestries.”

“What are your thoughts on it,” Yavanna questioned Him.

“Truthfully, the sooner that abomination is destroyed the better it is for all of Arda,” He stated. “There are still certain things that were not repaired by these changes brought about by your children, and I fear things will not go well for your daughter for a time.”

The Queen of Earth nodded, expression showing just how worried She was for Her daughter.

“The burden she carries is one that will continue to grow in weight and will try to destroy her,” She said. “I fear that she will not be able to gain enough strength from her companions to complete the task she has begun.”

“The bond she has with my son is still forming,” the Smith shared. “It will not be fully developed until their wedding night so the ability for Thorin to share his strength with her is limited. It is a worry that he frets over constantly, and my wife is doing the same.”

“Which is why you sought me out,” Irmo asked, giving His friend a small smile.

“Indeed,” Mahal agreed, giving a wide grin in return. “I have an idea that you may be able to help us with; it will give the Ring Bearer strength to finish walking the path she has set herself on as well as comfort my wife and son.”

The group listened as the idea was set in front of them, and the Valier were quick to give their approval to it. Estë looked at Her husband, hopeful He could do it.

“This is something I can certainly do,” Irmo agreed. “Have you both tokens of their souls?”

The Smith reached into a pouch He wore on his belt, fishing out an oval shaped tanzanite gemstone. If one were to look carefully into the facets, the shape of a sprig of hawthorn blossoms was beginning to take shape in the dark azure depths. He passed it to Irmo, who accepted the gorgeous gemstone with care.

Yavanna reached into Her hair, gently removing a sprig of hawthorn blossoms from one of the myriad of tiny braids Mahal wove into Her hair every morning. The blossoms were not all healthy; some of them showed signs of damage that were slowly starting to heal. The small flowers were changing from a light shade of pinkish-white to a pale hue of the blue of the tanzanite. 

Estë looked at both tokens, smiling widely at them. They were beautiful, and She could see how the developing bond was starting to cause changes within the two representations of the souls.

“You can see how the family chosen for her is starting to heal her spirit,” She said with a pleased note in her voice. “I don’t believe I have seen such a lovelier representation of a bond in mortals before. These two will be strong together.”

“My umral grew the perfect soul for my son,” Mahal agreed. “The pair will be incredibly good for each other; like you say, the lass’s soul is beginning to heal so I believe they will be happy once the bond is finished and they realize what they mean to each other.”

“Indeed,” She said, giving a decisive nod. “While Irmo works on the idea you presented Him with, I need to speak with you about something. Would you walk with me?”

The Smith rose to His feet, helping the healer to Hers before offering His arm to Her. Once She rested Her hand on His forearm, the pair walked out from under the branches of the willow.

They walked in silence for a while before Estë looked up at Mahal; He could tell She had something on her mind and remained quiet, giving Her the opportunity to speak.

“I had a chance to look at the tapestries when Vairë called for Irmo to see them,” She began, voice soft and full of emotion. “I had not realized just how much pain and suffering both Thorin and Hawthorn have faced over the years.”

“Thorin’s path has not been an easy one since his birth,” Mahal acknowledged. “There was not much I could do to help him until his path crossed with his own khajmel. Her influence has changed things and will continue to do so. In time, the Longbeard clan will no longer have to suffer through the pains they have due to his actions and her guidance.”

Estë nodded, pleased to know that Thorin’s people would have a better time of it now. She had seen what the couple would face in the future and knew they would overcome it. 

“Manwë and Mandos discussed a gift to reward them for their suffering once Vairë’s tapestries moved past the final challenge they will face,” She said. “I had thought to do the same, but I cannot give them their hearts’ second greatest desire.”

“Not even you can do such a thing,” Mahal asked, concerned since He knew how gifted the Valie was.

“No, not without bringing her to Lórien and that is impossible for a mortal,” She said with a soft sigh. “I cannot grant them this wish. It does lie within your power to do this in mine and Yavanna’s stead.”

Mahal paused, looking down at Her for a moment as He realized what She was referring to. 

“I was told not to grant such wishes anymore,” He reminded Her. “Our Father was rather adamant on that.”

Estë smiled at Him, remembering the conversation Her friend was referring to. It had broken Mahal’s heart, but He had obeyed the Father.

“Speak to Manwë,” She suggested. 

“I will,” He agreed, escorting Her back to the willow tree.

“It’s done,” Irmo said, handing the tokens back to the Valar who guarded them normally. “Starting tonight, Thorin will be able to meet his soulmate in his dreams and be able to provide the emotional and spiritual support young Hawthorn needs to finish her quest.”

Yavanna leaned against Mahal, who wrapped His arm around Her. He could feel the relief spreading through Her body and was also relieved to know She would not worry as much as well as Thorin.

“Thank you, Irmo,” She told him. 

“You are welcome,” He answered. “I will guard the dreams each night so the ring will not influence them while they are together. You both are correct; the little hobbit needs a chance to be free of it and to gain strength from the one she is created for.”

“This relieves a lot of my worries,” the Queen of Earth admitted. “While she is strong, her spirit has taken a lot of damage over the years due to the injuries that befell her and the attitudes of my children.”

“Will you be doing something regarding those attitudes,” He asked Her, chuckling at the near feral grin She gave him in response.

“I have plans in place already,” Yavanna said. “Infertiliity is not a curse, and my beloved daughter should never have been treated in such a way. She needed her people to support her, not treat her like a pariah. I know Bungo and Belladonna have had words with those who have come into my fields since they had to leave Hawthorn.”

“It’s been amusing to watch,” Mahal commented with a chuckle. “I expected it from Belladonna since the Tooks are spirited like my own children. However, Bungo was a welcome surprise. He dented four of his wife’s skillets while having ‘discussions’ with those they know have harmed their daughter. I wound up making one specifically for those discussions so they wouldn’t keep going through them so quickly.”

That made all four of them laugh, enjoying the lighthearted moment. These moments would be few and far between for the Valar until things were settled, and they knew they would have to cherish each one.

When the Smith and His wife left Lórien, Mahal a great deal on His mind. He knew He would need to deal with some who had broken faith with Him as well as come up with the gift to show Thorin and Hawthorn just how grateful the Valar were to them for their actions and sacrifices. These were thoughts that would linger in His mind for quite some time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s End Notes – Here are the translations for the words Yavanna used: cariad means love or dear, merch means daughter, cylch tywyllwch means dark circle, gŵr annwyl is beloved husband. For the khuzdul words, here are the translations: gayadê means my joy, khajmel means gift of all gifts, laslel means rose of all roses, umral means lover. Mahal turned out to be just as sappy as Thorin, and I love Him for it! I hope you enjoyed this chapter; please let me know what you thought of it. ~ Laran

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s End Note – Here’s the first chapter. Please let me know what you thought of it, and I hope to see you again while updating this one or the other two Hobbit stories I have published. ~ Laran


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